In a Heart of Darkness
by casus17
Summary: Futurefic. 12 yeas ago, Sam Winchester disappeared. Now, what's left of his family follows tales of a shadow hunter, hoping to find him. What they uncover will lead them to more than even a hunter can believe as they search for the missing Winchester.
1. Chapter 1: A Matter of Twelve Years

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Author's Note:** Hi, I'm back, I know, it's been ages. Sorry, life, you know. Anyways, I've had this idea bombarding my head about since I started writing here, and the first half of this chapter has been written for a long time. It is a future-fic, and there are kiddie Winchesters, so if you don't like either, I don't mind. Still, give it a shot, it's something a little different, but it's still me. You don't like it, just let me know.

**Warning:** Wow, language. Swearing hasn't improved in the future. But apart from that it's pretty clean for the first two chapters.

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* * *

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IN A HEART OF DARKNESS

**Chapter 1: A Matter of Twelve Years**

_His hands shook as he dialled the number. He felt numb all over. He couldn't even feel the blood drying on his hands, on his face. Not his blood, but blood. He trembled as he put his hand to his ear, not sure if he would be able to hear anyway. The phone rang for a few moments before it went to the answering machine. _

"_Lily, it's Dean."_

_His voice cracked as Dean stood and began to pace, cell in his right hand, at his right ear. He passed a hand over his eyes, trying so hard to hold the breakdown in place. The passing hand shook and he struggled not to look at the blood smudged on it._

"_Lily, ah… Jesus…" He took one of those deep, shuddering breaths, one of those damned signs of the close proximity of tears. "Lily, it's Sam. He's… ah… fucking hell. He's…"  
_

_He couldn't spit it out. Sick of pacing in the tiny enclosure of the motel room, he sat down. Before jumping up again, feeling burned by failure as he sat down on Sammy's bed. But it seemed to give him strength._

"_Lily, it's Sammy. Uh, the job really went south. We… I thought it was a poltergeist. The EMF even picked it up, but…" _

_There was an exhale, long and noisy. "But, ah, dammit, Sammy said there was nothing there, and I should've listened, but the EMF…" _

_He felt so pathetic. But the EMF… but, but, but. "It was a trap, Lily. A, ah… a trap for Sam. A trap for Sam. And, Jesus, they got him. They fucking got him. And there's no trail, no sign of anything. No sign of Sammy."_

_He had to sit down again as the tears began, choking the last sentence out, the tears he had been trying to hold in for so long, ever since he had busted his way out of that room at dusk the night before to find..._

_He put his head down, crying, sobbing into his free hand. God, he hadn't cried in so long. And he didn't know what else to say, didn't know what not to say, because if he told her everything..._

"_Lily…" His voice trailed off for no reason. He just couldn't speak anymore. He didn't know what to say. How could he tell his brother's wife that he had just lost the love of her life?_

"_Lily, God, I am so sorry. I… fucking hell, I wish…" Dean continued sobbing into his hand, his words sounding jumbled around the anxiety of tears._

"_Lily, I… I am so sorry. I'll never stop looking, I swear. One day, I'll… I'll find him, I swear to God. But… Fuck, I have no idea… I'm sorry."_

_And ending with a whisper, he hung up the phone, dropping it. He didn't care. He slid off the bed, onto the floor, crying into both hands. He had lost his brother, and now he felt like he had lost himself. He had no clue where Sam had been taken, what they were doing to him… just that even if he did find Sam, he didn't know if it would be Sam anymore. For all he knew, his little brother was dead._

_

* * *

_

Twelve years later

The man's name was Kris Lane. He sat in a corner of the bar, watching his surroundings. It was something he always did. He liked drinking by himself, watching everyone else. Though at the moment he was watching one man in particular.

Going by appearances, there was nothing special about him. Maybe early forties, a little too tall, brown hair, hard eyes, non-descript really. And yet the way he carried himself... He had the easy confidence of one who had lived long and seen much. It was a confidence he had carried over into the game of pool he was playing.

His opponents, however, didn't seem as content as the older man. They were much younger, mid-twenties at most, young men who believed themselves masters of the sport. And yet they were having their asses handed to them on a golden platter. And yet…

And yet Kris knew it would be a while before they dared approach the older man about his 'skills.' And about the fact that he was taking their money from them. Because this man had an air about him that was more than confidence. It was… strength, and danger, and power. And this intrigued the man sitting in the corner of the bar. It wasn't something one came across often. At least, not in humans.

He wanted to learn more. Taking his glass of beer and downing it, he walked over to the centre of the bar, for all purposes intent on buying another round. He also used the occasion to eavesdrop on the man and his opponents.

"Another game?" the guy asked. Something in his voice tickled the back of Kris' mind. The man's accent varied too much to place to a specific area or state. But it was more than that. It was like Kris recognised the voice.

"Another one?" one of the men asked incredulously. He was easily ten years younger than the man. "No way. You've cheated us enough out of our hard earned money."

The guy snorted, and received glares for his action. It didn't faze him. "Cheated? Prove it." He gave them a moment to speak, but none took the opportunity. "No? Okay. Well, if none of you want another game…" He trailed off and turned, stretching to put the pool cue back on the rack.

The men jumped him. Not all at once like was smart. But rather, the man who had spoken picked up a bottle intending to drive it into the guy's mop of brown hair.

Kris flinched as if to intervene, but something held him back. A desire to know what the guy could do. He could always jump in if things went south for the man.

The bottle descended, almost in slow motion, and for a horrible moment Kris was certain the man was going down. But, with bare inches to escape, the man spun, cue raised and held like a weapon. The man attacking him gave a sharp gasp as the cue hit him in the stomach. The whole bar heard the snap of breaking ribs. The man went down.

His three friends jumped in immediately. The guy backed off a bit, swinging the cue as if he knew how to use it. Then he attacked, well before his opponents could. He lashed out with the thick end and it connected, faster than possible, with one of the men's temples. He spun around fast, hitting the jukebox hard, cracking the glass and stopping the music, before going down like a sack of potatoes.

It left two now cautious men. One picked up his own cue, while the other backed away to give him room. But Kris could see the man was no match for his older opponent. He was proven right.

The younger man swung like he was swinging a club, both hands on the thick end. The guy blocked, and then blocked the next swing. The next one, he blocked, before snaking out with his arm to grab the cue. The kid on the other end was shocked, and the man used the surprise to twist and kick in one fluid motion. He hit his opponent in the face, before continuing through his own cue and shattering the man's elbow.

As the man went down screaming, the man looked up at the last guy; the older man carried a nasty, malicious grin on his face. The man was having none of it, and, uncaring of any embarrassment, turned and fled out the front door.

The bar was silent. Even the jukebox had gone quiet, broken and bloodstained. The guy seemed oblivious to it, sighing and losing that animalistic viciousness, looking almost regretful. Lane could have sworn he almost fell, one hand nearly clutching at the pool table, one hand flinching as if going to his heart. But he remained upright, looking tired, before reaching out for his glass. He drank the rest of his beer before wiping his mouth. Then he replaced his bloodied pool cue, stepped over the broken bodies of the men he had beaten and left the bar.

Immediately men rushed to the aid of the fallen. Kris sat at the bar, shocked. A new thought had entered his mind. But it couldn't be… could it. Impossible. Then again, that fighting, and the guy's voice had seemed very similar. And that confidence could easily be the confidence of a hunter. But what he had just done… And it had been over ten years… It couldn't be, could it?

He left his beer untouched and went outside, drawing in the air as if he had been starved of it. And then he pulled out his cell phone, staring beyond the trees at people he hadn't spoken to in a long time. Would she be pleased or devastated? He supposed he would never know. No one would.

He dialled the number quickly and put the phone to his ear. It rang twice before someone picked up.

"Ellen, it's Kris Lane."

The response was warm. "Kris? Hi, how are you?"

Kris shrugged, though no one could see him. The he rubbed his eyes. "You know that kid you told me about? John Winchester's boy? The one who disappeared twelve years ago?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I found him."

_

* * *

_

One week later.

Dean Winchester woke at the first sound of a window sliding open. After almost thirty years hunting, his instincts were as sharp as they could be. And even as his age grew, his hearing was as good as ever.

Not that a deaf man wouldn't hear the racket going on out there in his lounge room. That still stunned him, the fact that _he_, Dean Winchester, had a lounge room. Not a very big one, but it was there. And right now it sounded like someone was sending a herd of elephants through it.

He got out of bed silently, bare feet padding lightly on the carpet. By the door to his bedroom was a baseball bat and a shotgun. Knowing that it had to be humans out there, he grabbed the baseball bat. No supernatural being would make that much noise. Especially not if it knew it was in Dean Winchester's house.

He crept down the short hallway of his apartment, bat raised over his shoulder, ready to swing at a moment's warning. Carpet wrapped around toes, he placed a hand on the door, confidence settling in his skin.

He gave a shove, pushing the door open and jumping out, giving an incoherent cry. Someone else, a girl, screamed, a short, sharp shriek, before getting up and pulling out a shotgun.

Dean dropped the bat, shocked. Not from the gun pointed at him – that had happened all too often in his life – but from the stark familiarity that suddenly drained his face of all colour.

Recognition dawned on hers as well, and she lowered the gun, taking a deep, shuddering breath. If Dean had been able to do anything, he would have realized that he should take a deep breath as well. But he hadn't seen this girl in just over twelve years, at least up close… she had grown. Nearly as tall as him now, long brown hair, and the red-rimmed eyes of his long-lost brother staring out at him from the thin, pale, washed face of her mother.

"Jess?" Dean breathed, knowing it was her. He would recognise her anywhere, even after all these years.

But his niece frowned. "Not anymore, Uncle Dean. Everyone calls me JD."

Dean snorted. "I bet your mother doesn't."

To his surprise, she flinched, and wavered slightly, looking away. Dean, knowing he had just said something stupid, took a step forward, catching Sam's daughter as she fell, crying out.

And that was when he noticed the blood.

"Jesus, Jess, what happened?" he demanded, lowering her to the couch. "What have you been doing? Where's you mum? And your brother?"

The answer to that last question came barrelling out of the kitchen at that moment, pausing as he took in the scene. Then the younger sibling ran to Dean's side, giving his uncle a small, sad grin before shoving bandages, alcohol and holy water haphazardly into Dean's arms.

"Fix her up!" Caleb ordered impatiently, his eyes bright and far too demanding for Dean's liking. Reminded him of someone else. He frowned at his nephew, wondering what the hell was going on, before looking down at the now unconscious Jess.

"What happened, Caleb?" he asked, tearing his niece's shirt to get a look at the claw wound apparently shredding her stomach. It was shallow, though still far too deep for his liking, but knew that neither would appreciate a trip to the hospital.

The boy swallowed, and Dean realized he had been crying. Just as he realized Caleb was trying to push the tears bravely back.

"We were… we were on a hunt. Mum didn't want us there, but we followed anyway… she's dead, Uncle Dean. A demon got her."

Dean's hands paused as he was cleaning Jessica's wound, heart silently breaking for his niece and nephew. Losing their father years ago, and now their mother? Caleb wasn't even a teenager yet, and now he was parentless.

He forced his hands to keep moving. He wasn't going to let Jess disappear from Caleb's life as well. "Was it the same demon who did this to Jess?"

The young boy made the same face Jess had earlier. "It's not Jess anymore, Uncle Dean. Now it's JD."

The man shook his head. "Was it the same demon, Caleb?" What a great reunion, he thought bitterly as his steady hands took a needle and threaded it. "Can you hold your sister down, just in case she wakes?"

With the all too practiced ease that Dean recognised from his own childhood, Caleb got in behind Jess, taking a gentle grip around her chest and arms, keeping them away from the messy wound still weeping.

It didn't take long for Dean to patch his niece up, leaving a neat bandage in place of the bloodstained body paling on his couch. Jess hadn't woken, which Dean found a little distressing, but he refused to worry. These kids were Sam's, and he knew they had to have inherited some of his brother's strength, especially if they had escaped the same fate as their mother. Not that Lily was… had been, weak. She had been the strongest woman Dean knew. Jess would be okay.

Leaning back from inspecting the bandage, Dean wiped his brow, finding himself sweating even in the coolish autumn night. Then he looked up at his nephew, allowing himself to grin for the first time in a long time.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you," the hunter breathed, before he became sad. "I just wish it were under better circumstances."

Caleb pulled his eye contact away, brushing at the tears he couldn't help. "I can't believe she's gone, Uncle Dean," the kid muttered. "We watched her die… JD was holding her…"

Dean motioned for the kid to get out from behind Jess, and grabbed his shoulders when he obeyed, steering Caleb to the kitchen. He sat his nephew down in a chair and ignored the ransacked look that wasn't just from Caleb's searching, before setting two mugs down.

"I'm guessing you don't drink coffee," Dean half-heartedly joked, ignoring Caleb's stony head shake. "Good thing I have some milo here, I think I can still make a half-decent hot chocolate."

The kitchen fell into silence for a few moments as Dean poured them both something hot to drink. Knowing Jess would be okay for the moment left unattended, he prepared to catch up with the family he had lost when he had lost his brother.

"What happened tonight, Caleb?" Dean asked softly, knowing the kid was grieving. But, true to Winchester style, Caleb gave a small grin.

"Can you call me Cal, Uncle Dean. Only Mum calls me that when I'm in trouble…" His face fell. "Called me that, anyway."

Dean let his own grin slip. "I know it's hard," he told his nephew, watching the tears spring to life. "Even harder when you've had so long with her."

"Does the pain ever go away?" Cal asked next, looking up. Dean paused before answering.

"For some people it does. For some it doesn't… Some choose for it to never leave. Depends on what you're looking for, I guess…" He glanced out into the lounge room, where he knew Jess was unconscious still. "Some want a reminder of it every day, so they never forget it."

Cal wiped his tears away. "We weren't even supposed to be there," he muttered. "Maybe she wouldn't have died… No, that's a lie." His voice hardened, his eyes narrowed, and his breathing grew heavy. "The bastard lied to her, set her up… she was betrayed, Uncle Dean!"

Dean frowned, leaning back. "Whoa, what? What happened, Cal?"

The boy shook his head. "Mum got a phone call, saying she had a lead. She left me and JD to look after ourselves at the motel room, but halfway through the afternoon, JD ran into the room and started chucking stuff into my bag. She got a phone call from someone, saying that the guy Mum was going to see was going to get her killed. We left straight away, and got to the meet point in time to see the demon… It was horrible, Uncle Dean."

The man frowned. "Okay, if I'm calling you Cal, call me Dean. Uncle makes me sound old."

Cal smiled, though it didn't quite touch the grief in his eyes, and nodded. "But anyway, the demon attacked Mum. Like JD had said, the guy left instantly, he didn't know we were there. We tried to help, but it ripped Mum apart. Nearly did us in too."

He wound down, taking a hold on his mug of hot chocolate. Dean leaned forward on his elbows. "Who was your Mum meeting?" he asked, feeling the need for revenge spring in his gut. Though he might not have seen or spoken to their mother since that message years ago, Lily had still been family.

But Cal shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think JD knows either. Ellen might, it was her who sent us after him."

Dean frowned in confusion. "After this guy who got your mum killed?" he asked, not getting it.

The door swung open to reveal Jess leaning heavily against the frame. She was shaking her head.

"No. Ellen said this guy had a lead."

Dean looked between the two kids. "A lead on what?" he asked, not willing to believe that Ellen had called them and not him.

Jess looked at Cal, before catching her uncle's eye. "A lead on Dad."

* * *

So, what did you think? Or do you need chapter two to confirm it? Well, here you go!


	2. Chapter 2: Reacquaintance

**Chapter 2: Re-acquaintance**

_Lily Winchester laughed as little Jessica giggled, spraying her food everywhere, before sighing and looking at the clock. Sam had said he would ring before nine. It was quarter past, and she was getting worried. It wasn't enough that Caleb was a little sick and irritable, but now her husband was forgetting his duties. Or so she hoped._

_Little had she realized yet that in her world, their world, the hunter's world, hope was unfounded. It only ever got you killed. _

_At nine-thirty she was seriously considering calling Sam. Normally the idea wouldn't even cross her mind, knowing Sam could look after himself. And failing that, Dean would look after Sam for her. But Sam had seemed uneasy before leaving, kissing her long and hard, nearly refusing to let go of Jess or Caleb. As if he knew something was about to go horribly wrong._

_She jumped, dropping her glass of wine over the carpet, as the phone rang. Swearing out loud – she only ever did it when the kids were in bed – she raced to the kitchen to get a cloth, knowing the deep red would stain the carpet. She would let the machine get the phone._

_It clicked and she couldn't help but pause, hand tightening on the cloth as the choked voice of her brother-in-law came over the line._

"_Lily, it's Dean."_

_Her breath caught, and she let the cloth drop, pausing half way to the couch where the wine stain was spreading._

"_Lily, ah… Jesus…"_

_Her knees wobbled and she leaned over, clutching onto the lamp beside the couch as she heard his voice break. Dean Winchester's voice broke and she knew something had gone worse than terribly wrong. No, no, no…_

"_Lily, it's Sam. He's… ah… fucking hell. He's…"_

_She realized she couldn't breathe and let her legs collapse, folding underneath her as she sat heavily, tears springing to her eyes._

"_Lily, it's Sammy," Dean tried again, his voice crackling over a bad line. "Uh, the job really went south. We… I thought it was a poltergeist. The EMF even picked it up, but…"_

_She was shaking now, tears running silently down her face. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be. Sam couldn't be… _

"_But, ah, dammit. Sammy said there was nothing there, and I should've listened, but the EMF…"_

_Her face turned into a snarl, and before she knew it she had grabbed the now empty glass and thrown it across the room where it crashed into the wall. Like her heart, it shattered into a million pieces._

"_It was a trap, Lily. A, ah… a trap for Sam. A trap for Sam." As if to hurt her twice as hard, he said it once for the news and two for the betrayal seeping through both their hearts. "And, Jesus, they got him. They fucking got him -." She didn't hear the next as she let out a sob, grabbing into the couch, using it to hold herself up, leaning into it. "No sign of Sammy."_

_He broke with her, and his tears were easily heard over the machine, ripping a hole in her heart that was no longer there. Because if Dean had given up hope on his brother, than there was none._

"_Lily," the man sobbed, breaking off. _

"_You fucking asshole!" She screamed at the machine, using the pause to take out her anger. "You promised, you said you'd look after him! You bastard, you fucking liar, you fucking promised!"_

"_Lily, God, I am so sorry," he sobbed, as if answering her screams. "I… fucking hell, I wish…" He broke off into sobs again and she cried with him, sobbing, holding onto nothing because there was nothing left to hold onto._

"_Lily, I… I am so sorry." Like she cared. She felt the bitter resentment seep through her as thick and fast as her tears of loss were falling. "I'll never stop looking, I swear. One day, I'll… I'll find him, I swear to God. But… Fuck, I have no idea… I'm sorry."_

_The machine clicked and silence shattered the house. Lily gave another sob, flailing for something to keep her in this world. Dean's final words enraged her very heart._

I'll find him…

_Looking up and seeing Jessica staring down solemnly at her, her heart and mind hardened, stopping the flow of tears and letting sheer determination hold her to her family. And she whispered…_

"_Not if I find him first."_

* * *

From a distance, you never would have guessed the bar was only newly restored. Okay, so newly was an exaggeration. But after Harvelle's Roadhouse had been destroyed seventeen years ago, nearly every hunter in the country had pitched in one way or another to see the bar rise from the ashes once more, burdened with the new name, Hunter's Rest, an everlasting memory to demon's wrath and a massive lose of life so important to more than the then-coming war.

Even Dean and Sam had helped out, in their time out from the war that had started not long after Dean and Bobby had despaired over Ash's charred corpse. When certain other hunters weren't there. And it had risen, bright and shiny, and slightly unreal. But now it still looked as dirty and rundown as it had the first time Dean had laid eyes on it, and he was glad of it. It was a memorial to fallen warriors, and warriors weren't bright, shiny toys. And it was still a meeting point and gathering place for hunters across America.

Parking the car out the front of the otherwise abandoned roadhouse, Dean sighed and shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't been here in years. A decade, in fact, not since he had been in his thirties. Now that made him feel old, and he shifted again.

Looking over at the bar, he wondered if they had spotted and remembered the car already. Shifting slightly, he leaned across and gave Jess a shake. She jumped awake, and her sudden cry woke Caleb where he slept in the backseat. They both looked around, and spied Hunter's Rest.

"We're here," Dean told them, though he knew it wasn't needed. They both obviously recognised the premises. He opened the door, and Sam's kids followed suit.

Seconds later his feet were tapping across the front porch, and his hand was reaching for the handle. But he hadn't reached it before the door burst open and a small boy, maybe seven or eight years old sprang from within the building, almost colliding with Dean as he raced away from the Rest.

An elderly woman was following him out, angry or frustrated, Dean had never been able to tell with Ellen. But she gave a gasp before she could call after the boy, pausing and eyes going wide as she took in the three on her door step.

"Dean Winchester, I don't believe it!"

Dean gave a frown at the woman, cocking his head. She had aged since he last saw her, her once blonde hair greying, nearly silver. But her eyes were piercing, young, and at the moment, stunned.

"Hey, Ellen," Dean greeted, unsure what to make of this. "Can we come in?"

The older woman seemed to see Jess and Cal for the first time, and her face fell. "Oh, kids, I'm so sorry," she breathed, shaking her head. "If I'd known what that bastard was up to… come in, please."

She stepped back, apparently forgetting the kid, and Dean walked in, shrugging out of his jacket. The interior was a lot better kept than the outside, wooden wall panels, a homey feeling, despite the lingering stench of cigarette and alcohol. And the various weapons placed as trophies and adornments on the walls, of course. He also didn't fail to notice the salt, lining each window, each door.

Ellen led them through to the bar, where Dean was slightly surprised to find Jo, staring at him with something close to horrified relief.

"Dean?" She began, before her mother cut her off with a look.

Jo pulled out five mugs instead of continuing, filling two with lemonade, and the other three with beer. Then, with the silence pressing in on them all, they all sat down. Ellen sighed.

"I am so sorry…" she told Jess and Cal softly. The boy looked away, trying not to cry again. But Ellen stared gently down at them, and it seemed to help Jess. "JD, what happened?"

Before Dean had time to wonder at everyone calling his niece by her initials, the teenager launched into the story. Dean had heard it the night before, but he still listened carefully.

"When Mum got your call, we left for Colorado straight away," she mumbled, glancing quickly down to her mug. "It didn't take us long to get there, just over a day. Mum booked us a motel room, and left to find Kris Lane immediately. She… she wasn't gone long when I got a phone call, saying Lane was going to betray Mum. I don't know who, and I don't know how," she put in, forestalling Jo's question, same as she had Dean's. "But she did, and she told me I had to get there immediately. I believed her, and she was right."

She gave a small choke, tearing up. "I grabbed Cal, stole a car… we raced out to where they were meeting… but… but we didn't get there in time.

"We never saw Lane. He had gone by the time we got there, under the cover of night. But we saw the demon, just as it… just as it swiped at Mum. She screamed… it was so loud…" She trailed off into shivers, and somehow Caleb took up the story.

The kid looked around, his eyes red. "We raced out, shot the demon. It didn't do anything. I ran to Mum, JD ran to face the demon. It slashed her, and JD fell. I ran to JD, grabbed her gun… but before I could do anything, the demon shrieked, and when I looked up, it was gone. It was just us."

JD looked back up, tears leaking silently. "I crawled to Mum, she was still alive… I… Not for long, she wasn't. We held her… she didn't even know we were there though. She just coughed… and gurgled… and then she died."

Cal gave a sniffle, and JD grabbed him, giving her little brother a tight hug. Dean knew they had both finally realized. Realized that their mum wasn't coming back, that she was dead, that she would never speak to them, hug them, kiss them goodnight and promise everything was going to be okay. The night before they had both been in shock. This morning, they had both slept, catching up on some much needed rest. Now, now there was nothing to hide the truth. Cal buried his head in his sister and Dean couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with the unfamiliar sight.

Sensing it, Jo moved from behind the bar and took the kids by the small of their backs, taking them somewhere to grieve in peace. Dean turned to Ellen, unable to keep his anger down anymore.

"So they came to you?" Ellen asked softly before Dean could speak. It was loud enough to cover the sounds coming from the back room. Dean nodded, refusing to look away from the older woman's eyes.

"Broke into my house last night. Not sure how they knew where to find me." He gritted his teeth, blood bubbling with fury. "Obviously not from you, Ellen, considering you apparently didn't know where I was, or how to contact me. Why didn't you tell me you had a lead on Sam!"

Ellen sighed and rubbed her eyes, suddenly looking her age. Dean ruthlessly ignored it. "Dean, look -."

The younger hunter cut her off with a snap. "No, Ellen, no excuse. You didn't tell me! Me! You know I've been looking for Sam for the past twelve years, you know I never stopped searching! And you didn't bother to call me when someone came through with a lead?"

Ellen stood, angry herself now. "No, Dean, I didn't. She's his wife, Dean!"

"And I'm his brother!" Dean yelled, losing control and smashing his fist down on the bar. "Dammit, you know what I was like when… when… I've never been a bigger mess, never Ellen! It should have been me there!"

Ellen looked through to the backroom, where the sobs had stopped, and both hunters knew the kids and Jo were listening. Dean found he didn't care.

"Dean, look," the woman began in a low voice. "A, Lily wouldn't have wanted you there, and if I had called you, no doubt it would be you dead. And no one would know. B… I thought you _were_ dead."

This made Dean stop. "What? You'd heard I was dead? Who the hell told you that?"

"C'mon, Dean, you disappeared. Right off the radar, better than even your daddy ever did. I haven't heard from you in almost three years, haven't seen you in longer. I got a call from another hunter, said he'd heard you were dead. Not someone you know. John always did hide you from the hunting world."

Dean rubbed his face, turning away from the bar. "Jesus, I had no idea. I mean, you were getting nowhere with Sam, even with all your contacts. I decided I'd have to do it myself… I can't believe someone told you I was dead."

Ellen shrugged. "Well, believe it. I didn't have anything to tell me different. No one had seen you for years, I tried your number…"

Dean shook his head. "My phone was destroyed, hunting a water spirit in Illinois." He took a seat. "Sorry, I didn't realize I had cut myself off." A sudden thought occurred to him, and he turned his gaze to Ellen. "Would you have called me if you'd known where I was?"

The woman shrugged. "I don't know. Would have depended on Lily, I guess. Don't waste your thoughts on it, Dean. What's done is done and what is never going to pass isn't going to destroy us."

It was one of her favourite sayings, and Dean gave a small grin as he remembered hearing that for the first time, though then it had been his father's words. The first time he had let something get past him and get Sam. Though then, there had been a stern, 'do better next time' on the end, and a long lecture at the start. His grin dropped and he rubbed his eyes.

"So, did this guy really have a lead? On Sam, I mean?" he asked. Ellen shrugged.

"I don't know. I'll tell you what I told Lily…" She trailed off as JD and Cal came into the room, eyes red and faces bright. But neither of them were crying anymore. Jo had disappeared, maybe to look for the boy that had to be her son. Sam's kids sat down heavily on bar stools, and remained silent. Ellen seemed to understand that they were going to be a part of this and continued.

"I got this call from this hunter, Kris Lane. Used to travel around, but since a spirit broke his hip he's gone to ground in Colorado. Anyway, he was at this bar, about a week back now. And he saw this guy hustling pool. The men he was playing, they got angry, attacked him… and he took three of them out. Apparently one's still unconscious in the hospital, in a coma."

Dean's stomach dropped, and his mind began rebelling. No way Sammy would do anything like that, he was always careful, he knew his strength. Unless he wasn't Sam anymore… He tuned back into Ellen's voice.

"Anyway, Lane thought he recognised this guy. Said he'd be about Sam's age, same kind of look… same fighting style as John had always had. He called me, and I… I called Lily."

Again Dean's stomach dropped, and he looked away. It still didn't mean it was Sam. It wasn't like John's fighting style had been incredibly unique.

"Any other reason why he thought this guy was Sam?" Dean asked, refusing to allow his voice to crack. Ellen shook her head.

"None that he told me. But he said there were stories, as well, that had been cropping up in the last couple of years. Stories coming from around Colorado, and the closer they got to the mountains, the newer they were. Stories of a man saving someone from something… unexplainable."

"A hunter?" Dean demanded, sitting up straighter. Ellen nodded.

"Only, it's one who… no one's ever met him. That we can find. I've been looking into it, for longer than since Lane saw this man he thinks is Sam. No one's claimed responsibility, no one's seen him that can say what he looks like… just that he saves their lives and disappears."

Dean sat back, breathing deeply. That was sounding more like Sam. All too willing to risk his neck to save someone else and just as unwilling to accept the gratitude behind it.

"Do you really think this phantom hunter's Dad?" Jess asked. Cal was staring at the two adults with wide eyes. Ellen shrugged, but it was Dean who spoke.

"We're going to find out," he promised in a hard voice.

**

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A/N:

I was going to put this up there, but I didn't want to give anything away. Just wanted to tell everyone that I used Ellen and Jo cause we have met them. Originally I used Joshua, but I don't like using characters who have been mentioned, but who we haven't met. Thus, Ellen and Jo. Besides, I liked the whole Hunter's Rest idea. 


	3. Chapter 3: Blind Presumption

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review! You gave me love! Now here's chapter three AND four to soak up... but beware! Two chapters a night will soon be a thing of the past!

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Chapter 3: Blind Presumption

_They both looked up at the house from the safety of the Impala, Sam leaning across slightly to see. It was a plain house, double-story, white weatherboard with a dark grey roof that seemed to stand out starkly against the ever-blue sky. It was only a small property, the house centred in a patch of grass and struggling flowerbeds. But it backed onto a forest that spread out for what seemed like miles in either direction. It was also the only house in the same distance. _

"_What do you think?" Dean asked Sam as the younger man leaned back. Sam shrugged._

"_Seems pretty normal. If it is a poltergeist it's not doing much damage to the outside."_

"_What else could it be?" Dean demanded. "From what he said…"_

_Sam got that vacant look he had been getting for the past day of driving. Then he shrugged. "Maybe we should just go inside, see what's what, then make our decisions. When was the last time presumption came out to be any good?"_

_Dean had to admit, he had a good point, though he hadn't really needed the snappy tone or sarcasm, not after the past day dealing with it. His kid brother had been angry and annoyed for the entire drive. _

"_Okay, fine. No need to take your PMS out on me," he argued back, putting a hand on the handle. Sam cut him off._

"_What's that supposed to mean?" the younger man asked icily. Dean turned back to face him._

"_I'm just saying, just cause you're tired, don't blast us all with your inability to cope with lack of sleep now you've become all homey."_

"_Me, all homey? Puh-lease, you stay there as much as I do. Besides, not my fault you play your shit music so loud while I'm trying to sleep."_

_Dean was taken back by the vindictiveness. "Last time I checked, you had almost all my tapes on CD. Besides, it's not my music. Last time I checked, you always could sleep through that. Last time I checked, it's your freaking nightmares keeping you awake."_

_He was getting angry himself now, and he knew it was because he himself was tired. Knew it was because of his own nightmares. And apparently Sam knew the reason just as well as Dean did, getting that smug grin and huffing._

"_I'm not the only one with nightmares, Dean," he said quietly. To both of their relief, he lost some of his anger as well. "Look, I know that last hunt didn't exactly go to plan -."_

"_Understatement of the century," Dean muttered under his breathe._

"_But you really should find some way to get past all that macho manliness and _talk _about what happened. You do know you couldn't have saved that girl."_

"_Lily's been teaching you to counsel, hasn't she?" Dean answered. His little brother saw the attempt straightaway._

"_Fine, if you want to change the subject, go ahead." Ah, so he was back to the basics, reverse psychology. "Let's just get inside and help this guy who was so desperate to find us."_

_Dean didn't move, feeling stupid as he looked up at the house looming above them. "I'm not dreaming about any job," he told Sam, looking around._

_But it seemed his baby brother had given up, somehow opening the door silently and getting out. Sighing, Dean followed suite and prepared for what lay ahead. _

* * *

They ended up staying at Ellen's for the night. They all enjoyed the home cooked meal, something much better than anything Dean could have rustled up in his kitchen back home, no matter how much he actually liked cooking. After tea Cal decided to read through some of Ellen's books, and Dean smiled down at him, proud and hurting at how much the boy was like Sam. Not just in looks, though the kid was the spitting image of his own brother. But he was smart, caring… he was Sam, at that age.

After a while he realized he wasn't the only one staring down at Cal and grinned as he saw Jess watching her own baby brother.

Around midnight Ellen sent them both to bed, while Jo left the bar to do the same with her son, Will. Dean was glad Ellen had spoken up, because the woman was obviously more used to giving them both orders than Dean ever could be. After making sure Jess and Cal had gone, Dean retired to the bar and stayed there until Ellen joined him as the last customer left.

"I've missed them," Dean admitted after a moment of silence contemplating the drink in front of him. Ellen nodded understandingly.

"I know. I can tell. I saw you watching Cal tonight."

Dean grinned, shaking his head. "He's so like Sam it hurts," he told the woman, realizing he was attempting one of those moments he had used to avoid like the plague. But after Sam had disappeared, he had all but crawled to Ellen, and she had helped him pick himself back up. And it had involved a lot of time like this, a lot of tears, and tantrums and depression. It didn't feel weird with her, not anymore, not when she had seen Dean at his barest.

"And Jess…" He trailed off, picking up the mug and swinging it around. He gave a chuckle. "Or JD. God she's grown. Last time I saw her she was knee high and calling me 'Unky'. Now she's grown up, and I missed all of it."

He took a long mouthful, revelling in the burn as it travelled down his throat. He sighed with pleasure.

"They've missed you, too," Ellen informed him after another small silence. "They used to ask me to tell them stories, of you, and their dad. I think they needed you, both of you. They're a lot harder than they should be."

Dean gave a mirthless laugh. "Me and Sam were as well," he spat at no one. "Looks like its one of those Winchester things." He gave another sad chuckle. "Of course they needed Sam. Who doesn't need their father? I know I needed him."

He sighed and downed the rest of his drink. "I'm going to sleep. It's a long drive to Colorado and I need to be fresh."

He stood and put the mug down. Then he caught Ellen's eyes and felt his mouth thin with determination. "I hope we find Sam," he told the older woman. "I think we all need at least some kind of closure."

He had the couch, while Sam's kids took the spare beds. Again Dean was reminded of the stark familiarity of it, with the nostalgia of his childhood catching him unprepared. But he took the couch, settling down as Ellen made her way to her own bed. Somehow he fell asleep quickly, and entered a thankfully dreamless land.

An interminable time later a loud, piercing scream broke through his sleeping and he jolted awake, sitting up so fast he cracked his back.

The scream came again, and still half asleep, he stumbled off the couch, going for the shotgun he had laid on the floor, picking it up in a sweeping motion. Trying to force awareness on his brain, he still nearly ran into Jo as she made her way to the spare bedroom, Ellen right behind them.

The door fell easily before them and Dean leapt in, unthinking, gun raised.

Only there was nothing to raise it against, and as he looked around for what had made Jess scream, he realized she was still asleep. Cal was leaning over her, shaking her as hard as he could, but she couldn't wake.

Dropping the gun and vividly reminded of something he couldn't remember, he raced forward, all but leaping over the bed to her side by the window, nearly shoving Cal away in his haste.

"Jess!" he cried, grabbing her shoulders and sitting by her side, gripping tightly. She just flinched away from his touch, but he remained steadfast. "Jess, come on girl, wake up! JD!"

His last ditch effort by calling her by her nickname worked. Giving a gasp she opened her eyes and sat up so fast she almost bumped heads with her uncle, panting, breathing heavily. Tuning in immediately, she looked around and gave a sheepish grin.

"Sorry."

Dean leaned back, eyebrows raised. "That's all you're going to say? What the hell are you sorry for? What were you dreaming about?"

She looked away from his eyes and gave a sniff. "It was… was about Mum," she told everyone, before looking up, tears in her eyes. "Please, I don't want to talk about."

She was lying. Dean knew that immediately, but she was almost as good at it as Sam had been. Everyone had thought Dean was the conman, and it had been true. But Sam had been the better liar, had been able to lie out of his ass and make everyone think it was laced with pure gold and truth. He just didn't do it all that often. Dean himself had fallen for it countless times. And now everyone else was doing the same with Jess. Cal put a hand on his sister's shoulder. Ellen nodded.

"It's okay, JD. I'm going back to bed."

The women turned and left, and Jess turned to Dean, begging him with her eyes to leave. The hunter didn't move for a moment, letting her know silently that he knew. She twitched guiltily, but he stood, and didn't push it. There would be time later.

He moved back to the couch, putting the shotgun back where he had left it before sleeping. But he didn't go back to sleep. He instead laid on his back, thinking over it in his mind. Trying to think back to why Jess's 'nightmare' looked all too familiar.

* * *

They started for Colorado the next day. And it was a long start. After two days wrought with grief, pain and betrayal, things were beginning to slowly settle down by the time they started out, though both kids got a vacant look when they thought about Lily. Dean himself tried not to think about it.

The problem was, he didn't know Sam's kids. Despite being his niece and nephew, Dean didn't know Jess or Caleb. And that made the silence in the Impala all the more uncomfortable.

After leaving at just after dawn – apparently Jess and Cal were just as used to getting up at first light as he was – they were maybe half way to Colorado by midday. Dean pulled over at a roadside diner, and the three took silent places at a booth near the back. They ordered in uncomfortable silence, and the waitress gave them a knowing look, as if she knew anything at all.

By the time the food came, they still hadn't said anything, and Dean was getting the uncomfortable feeling it was because they were unsure what they could say in front of him. That it was because they blamed him for their fatherless childhood.

Dean knew he would have to say something and shifted slightly in the chair. Then Cal gave him an opening when he excused himself to use the bathroom. The hunter knew that if he got his niece on side, her brother would follow easily.

Only Jess beat him to it. "We have to get through this," she said softly, watching her brother disappear. Dean gave her a look, wondering at her apparent ease at jumping into this chick flick.

"What do you mean?" he heard himself ask. She looked around at him, resting her chin in her hand.

"I mean, not being able to tr… talk to you." He heard the skipped word anyway. They weren't sure they could trust him. "Even if this Lane guy didn't see Dad, we're still going to have to work as a team to bring that fucking bastard down."

Dean raised his eyebrows, though more at the swearing than anything. It wasn't something he was used to hearing from her mouth, especially when the last time he had seen her, she had only a vocabulary about the quarter the size of his own. Which, when compared to Sam's own, wasn't saying much.

"Don't swear," he told her immediately, hearing it pop out. She gave him a raised eyebrow, and turned to look at the bathroom door. Dean sighed. "And I know. You guys blame me for Sam's disappearance, don't you?"

She swivelled back to look at him blankly, before shrugging and starting to fiddle with her mug. "I don't know. Mum does… or did. I know I used to. But," and here she paused, biting her lip to gather courage. "But he was with you when he disappeared. I know you were on a case. And I know Mum got a phone call from you. It's one of my earliest memories. But… what happened, Uncle Dean?"

The hunter's heart skipped a few beats as he remembered that day twelve years ago. Pacing his motel room, shaking, covered in blood that wasn't his own… Calling Lily, getting the answering machine, having to leave the worst, one sided conversation on that damn piece of machinery. Not having any clue what to do.

How in the hell could he explain that to his sixteen-year-old niece?

Footsteps saved him, and they both looked up as Cal joined them, glancing between his two older companions before rolling his eyes. Dean gave a small smile, thanking the kid silently, and getting up.

"Ready to hit the road?" he asked. "Deakin Hill's still half a day's drive away."

Both of them nodded, though Jess' was slower, less determined than her little brother's. She knew Dean was stalling, and he knew that she knew. Ignoring it, he threw a few bills onto the table to cover their food, and led the way back to the Impala.

* * *

Don't go anywhere, chapter four will be coming up right after this short break!


	4. Chapter 4: Dreaming of Something

**Chapter 4: Dreaming of Something**

_Sam yawned as he sat on the couch, rubbing at his eyes to remove the grit from them. He was taking a small rest after roaming the house, an act that had left him unusually weary. He just wasn't sleeping as well as he could be. And on top of straining his burgeoning abilities…_

_It wasn't that he wasn't sleeping though. It was his dreams. Or he thought it was. All he could remember of them was an intense beauty, a peaceful walk… and waking up as if he actually had been walking all night. Walking with purpose, gazing at every single detail about him, but refusing to stop and wonder. Walking towards something._

_He frowned, rubbing his whole face as if to relieve the tense strain. It was weird, he had never had dreams like these before. Premonitions, sure, nightmares, definitely. Dreams like this, trying to tell him something, dreams that felt real from the moment you entered them and continued on feeling real for hours after you woke up… they were a whole new bag of tricks. As if they were real, not just felt like it._

"_Sitting down on the job?"_

_Dean walked in and saw Sam sitting on the couch, head in his hands. He wondered what was going on, but found unexplainable annoyance coming easily at the fact that Sam appeared to be just sitting there while he scanned the entire house with his EMF meter. While he was tired and irritable, of all times. Damn dreams. _

_And then Sam looked up, and, like usual, any semblance of anger disappeared. The kid was looking more tired than he had done previously, his face drawn and slightly pale, dark circles under his eyes. "Sam, are you okay?" _

_Sam nodded at his brother's question. "Yeah, fine. EMF pick anything up?"_

_Dean grinned. "You kidding me? This house is like high on EMF. I'm surprised I don't feel it. Aren't you wired into it?"_

_Sam frowned. "Actually, I'm not. I swear Dean, I've been pushing and pushing… if I had to go by my head, I'd say there was nothing here. Nothing at all. No spirit, no demons, nothing."_

_He looked around, and, despite the empty house – the guy had left them to their own devices for the day, taking his wife and leaving the supernatural busting to the boys – he lowered his voice._

"_I dunno, Dean. There's something about all this I don't trust."_

_The older hunter frowned, looking around as well. He knew what Sam was talking about, though he lacked any special abilities to sense it. Just what his gut told him. And his gut had noticed the odd glint in the guy's eyes, the way his hands clenched at strange times. _

_Then again, his gut was divided, for the first time ever._

"_Sam, Paul was a friend of Dad's, they served together. Yeah, Cannon might not have exactly stuck by his mate when Mum died -." Understatement. The guy had threatened to call the cops the moment John showed up. "But he soon realized his mistake." A banshee on your ass tended to do that to you._

"_How come Dad never mentioned him?" Sam asked, standing up and running a hand through his hair. "I mean, not once. All the others, at least once or twice. But Paul Cannon… never. First time we heard his name was when he called us looking for help. Help that, according to my head, he doesn't even need."_

_Dean sighed, and looked around. "Sam, the EMF picked it up. That means something's around. And you're tired, and we know that doesn't exactly give your whole shining deal a boost."  
_

_The younger man didn't seem convinced but he dropped his hands from his head and nodded. "Yeah."_

"_Yeah," Dean agreed. "Now come on, we've got work to do."_

_Neither of them added the thought that hopefully that work would last all day, even into the night. That way, neither would get any sleep, or hopefully they would be too tired to dream. Both of them, too tired to dream of a frighteningly disturbing and incredibly beautiful walk that lasted into their waking moments._

* * *

They made it into Deakin Hill just before nightfall, checking into a cheap motel on the outskirts of the town. In the dust-ridden nightfall, the town looked like a grim place, a sepia tone cast over the houses, giving it an ominous feel. Dean looked around as he shouldered his bag, not stopping the search for anything until he closed the motel door behind him. What he was actually searching for remained a mystery, but he wasn't about to let anything slip by.

There had only been one room left, but thankfully it had two double beds. Sam's kids had informed him that they didn't really mind sharing a bed, and again the older hunter was reminded of the all too stark similarity between his childhood and his niece and nephew's.

They arrived too late in the day to do anything but research, and while Cal made himself comfortable on the bed, Jess scanned through the phone book, looking for anything that delivered. She had settled on pizza while Dean opened his laptop and began the real work.

By the time the pizza arrived, he had found out a bit, and he shared it with the kids while they ate.

"Ellen was right," he began. "There's a few odd stories floating about here."

"Odd stories as in someone saving people's lives?" Cal asked around a mouthful of pizza. Dean nodded.

"Exactly. The earliest mention I could find was a place called Jackson, about an hour the other side of the range. This was three years ago. A man was out hunting with his friends, got separated. He started feeling something watching him, next thing he knows, something attacks him. When he was found he described it as humanoid, but incredibly strong, fast, and smart. He later said it was a bear."

"Wendigo?" Jess asked. Dean shrugged.

"I'm guessing. Me and your dad, we hunted one out here a few years before he disappeared." It had been there first hunt together after Jessica had died, but he didn't mention that. "But lacking any hard evidence, all we've got is theory."

"So how did this hunter survive?" Cal asked. Dean shrugged again.

"Someone saved him, or something. It was circling him, he had already found one of his friends dead. Then a 'shadow man'," and Dean accentuated the words, "appeared, shot two… two flares at it, before disappearing. This guy said the creature disappeared pretty fast as well." He grinned up at the kids. "What he meant was it burst into ash, but that would have just sounded crazy. Flares are what we used to kill that one I just mentioned."

"And you think this 'shadow man' is Dad?" Cal asked, forgetting the pizza in his hands. Dean sighed.

"Maybe. There are other stories. Woman saved from what sounds like a werewolf." Now that would have been hard for Sam. "Three kids saved from a poltergeist haunting an abandoned warehouse. Ah, a blind man and his dog saved from, probably, a demon. There are a few others. And Ellen was right. They're getting closer to Deakin Hill. The last one was three weeks ago, a couple out camping… they're kind of hard to understand, but something attacked them, before this guy saved them… dragged the woman right out of the tent before diving back in. One 'unearthly' scream later, they went back in to find it empty, but blood everywhere, and what looked like some kind of scaled dog dead on their sleeping bags." He wondered what the hell that could be. And what the hell had happened to this 'shadow man'.

"And if this is Dad… what do we do?"

Dean looked Jess in the eye and she nodded at the sheer determination in her uncle.

"First," Dean began, sweeping his gaze around to include Cal. "First we find Kris Lane and see what he knows."

A vengeful light sparked in Jess' eyes, and Dean felt a small surge of discomfort. But he had loved their mother as well; she had been like a sister to him. Lane wasn't getting away with betraying her easily.

"So how do we find the little shit?"

"Don't swear," Dean admonished automatically, and she frowned, but didn't bite back. "And we go check out the bar he was in when he says he saw Sam. Or I will, seeing how neither of you are twenty-one."

"As long as you're careful," Cal broke in, and Jess nodded. Dean grinned at the two of them.

"Yes, Mum," he joked, immediately regretting it when Cal flinched. He lost his own good humour. "Look, I'll be careful. I've been working on my own for the last twelve years, I think I can handle a little recon by myself."

* * *

Dean went to the bar that night, leaving Jess and Cal locked in the motel room. He didn't plan on being long, just an hour, two at most. Having responsibility like two kids was new, but he didn't plan on failing at it. Not with Sam's kids. If his brother was still alive, he wasn't going to greet the lost hunter with the news that his son and daughter were dead.

The bar was smack dead in the centre of town, and appeared to be the only sign of life in all of Deakin Hill. It was nearing ten, on a weekend, and he had expected more people out and about. But barring the bar, the town was lifeless.

He walked right up to the bar and ordered a beer, sitting down on one of the stools. He gave the bar keeper a smile, which she returned, but he knew he couldn't go laying about while Jess and Cal were waiting. Too bad too, he thought, cause she wasn't bad looking.

He sat on his own at the counter, not talking to anyone, just trying to get a feel for the place. It seemed kind of silent, though the space was filled with the buzz of conversation. Dean looked around and realized the jukebox was broken. Taking a closer look, he frowned. Was that blood on it?

He took a sip of his beer and looked up, catching the eye of the bar tender. She was grinning suggestively, and he grinned back.

It was some time before she made her way over, but Dean took the time to complete a study of the bar. Kris Lane wasn't about, but that didn't mean he had never been there.

"Slow drinker?" a husky voice asked, and Dean looked up into the bar tender's face. He smiled.

"Why rush what you enjoy? It's been a while since I could just sit back and… drink something in."

She cocked her head. "All by your lonesome."

Dean nodded. "'fraid so." Until he got back to the motel, anyway. Then it was kids, kids, kids. "But hey, the décor here is nice. Well, except the jukebox. Get many fights here?"

She shrugged, a little put off by the sudden subject change. "Not like that one. This guy was here hustling pool. His… victims realized it after a while, and they jumped him. Or tried." She shook her head. "I've never seen anyone fight like that before. He was good. Scary good. Took out three of them. I hear one's still in a coma."

His eyebrows rose. "Really? Wow, sounds kinda vicious."

She nodded. "Yeah, it was for a bit. Then he looked real sorry for it. And he left, no one had to kick him out. Just put the cue back and left. Haven't seen him here since."

Dean nodded. "Seen him here before?" he asked lightly.

She shook her head. "Never. And I would remember if he had been."

She was called away to serve then, and Dean sat there thinking. Could this guy have been Sam? It didn't really sound like Sam. For one, Sam had always been against hustling pool, or playing poker, or any dishonest way of earning money. And two, he didn't put people into comas.

To his surprise, the bar tender didn't come back to him, and when he finished his beer, one of the others came to grab him another one. Dean stopped him before he could leave.

"I'm meant to be meeting a friend here," he said. "Name's Kris Lane, late forties, about my height. Bung hip?"

He was glad of Ellen's description when the man nodded. "Yeah, he comes in here most nights. He should be here later actually, doesn't usually come in til late."

Dean thanked him and took another sip, thinking. Remembering that light in Jess' eyes when she spoke of vengeance. She was angry, no doubt Cal was too. What would she do if confronted with her mother's killer.

He shrugged mentally and decided he would have to find out. He wasn't going to get this guy without Jess and Cal; they deserved to be a part of this. And he would just have to make sure Jess didn't do something she would regret.

He downed his drink and slid off the stool, turning to leave. Just as he turned, he looked up, and his eyes swept over the door as it opened and a man came in.

Dean knew who it was instantly. The limp was only half the reason. The other half being the colour draining from the man's face as it fell on Dean. The hunter felt anger flare and he took two steps forward.

"Lane," he growled.

Kris Lane gasped, before turning and fleeing. Dean wasn't far behind the man, leaving shocked and curious patrons behind.


	5. Chapter 5: Tendencies

**Author's Note:** Thanks once more to everyone who reviewed, it really is awesome! I'm glad you're liking it. Sorry, but no double chapter tonight, just the one... besides, I couldn't resist leaving it how I lef it. And yeah, that whole 'lef' thing was on purpose!

Enjoy!

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Chapter 5: Tendencies

"_I'm telling you, Dean, there's nothing here!"_

_Sam threw his hands up in exasperation as his older brother shoved the EMF under his nose once more, where the lights continued to creep up and down._

"_Sam, this thing's like a bloody Christmas tree! How can there be nothing here?"_

"_I don't know! I don't know Dean!" And he really had no clue. "But you made the stupid thing, and it's got to be nearly ten years old. Maybe it's screwed."_

"_Maybe it's your head that's screwed!"  
_

_Sam took a step back then, hurt coming onto his face. And anger, and frustration, and exhaustion. He was just sick of this. Sick of fighting with Dean, sick of the EMF showing something his head couldn't feel, sick of this freaking job. He just wanted to get home to Jess, and Cal, and Lily. But no, they had fucking obligations._

"_Three days, Dean," Sam said quietly as soon as he had his anger under control. Arguing was getting them nowhere. Especially when they were both basically dead on their feet from lack of sleep and incredibly irritable. "We've been in this dump of a house for three days, and I haven't felt one single spirit. Not once, Dean. Don't you think that's a bit odd?"  
_

_Dean appeared to struggle for a moment. Then he sighed. "No, you're right, it's weird." He dropped the EMF on his bed. "So, what's going on, do you think?"_

_Weary, Sam sat down, rubbing his eyes. "Honestly? No idea. Why's the EMF showing something's here. Besides my head, we haven't seen any sign of any spirit, or poltergeist. It hasn't done anything while we've been here. And…"_

_He trailed off, not wanting to say anything. But Dean sat down opposite him, a frown on his face._

"_And what, Sammy?"_

_The younger man sighed. "And Paul Cannon creeps me out. There's something about him I don't trust. Don't you think this whole family… I mean, his wife, she barely says boo. And she's always looking at him, like she's asking him for permission. He gets all weird about things… he hasn't had one phone call since we've been here, no visitors…"_

_He sat up straight and waited for it. Waited for Dean to jump to Cannon's defence all because he had served with John. And he could see Dean struggling to do so. Struggling with his head and his heart. Then he sighed as well._

"_I know what you mean. He's… I don't know, but I can't bring myself to trust him. There are times when… I catch him watching us, like he's waiting. I don't know what, but… I know what you mean. I mean, when Deakin called us, we spent ages talking, hearing stories about Dad. But from Cannon, nothing. I don't get it."_

"_Something's going on here," Sam said suddenly, standing up and putting his hands on his head. The room really was too small to pace, but he tried anyway. "It's like he wants us here. I don't think he ever knew Dad, I don't think there ever was a spirit here." He sat down opposite Dean again, feeling slightly agitated. "And I think we need to get out of here."_

_Dean looked him in the eye, his own look hard and determined. "No. If you're -."_

_A huge bang cut him off, an explosion of light directly under their feet. The brothers screamed, crashing into walls with the sheer power of the noise and white light. It blinded them, knocked them out, and they fell to the ground again, rolling off beds to crash into a heaped pile on the floor._

_The world was silent for a moment, the room untouched apart from the brothers, but nothing seemed to make a sound. And then, footsteps._

_The door opened and a Paul Cannon walked in, smiling with triumph as he surveyed the unconscious Winchesters._

"_Well that worked better than I expected."_

* * *

The forest was thick about him, and the leaves and branches scratched at his bare arms as he shoved past them. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop, because then they would catch him, and that wasn't allowed to happen.

But he was exhausted. So very exhausted. Tired of running, of hiding, of being chased.

And he couldn't stop. His feet bled against the soles of his shoes, his knees ached in protest and his lungs were on the verge of collapsing, he knew it. But he couldn't stop. The damn thing about his neck wouldn't let him.

It knew what chased him, as if it were alive, and so very aware of impending doom. And it refused to let him stop. It was the same as always. It would let sheer determination to live see how far it could get him, and if that wasn't far enough, it would take hold.

And the demons had found him again. He had been stupid, careless, getting into a fight like that. Pulling attention to himself. But he had needed the money, and that game seemed to come all too naturally. Just like the fighting, and the hunting. And the running.

He had just wanted one night in a bed. How long had it been since he had slept in a bed? How long had it been since he had slept?

Too long, and that time wouldn't end tonight. Not while he ran and hid from the demons chasing him.

Suddenly the earth opened up and he only just managed to catch a scream before it tore open from his throat and alerted the demons to his position. Thankfully it wasn't a long fall, but he collapsed nonetheless, soul-numbing weariness keeping him locked into the dirt. He had fallen over some kind of mound, some kind of small ledge, a mere seven foot drop. But he crouched into the corner where horizontal met vertical, and held his breath.

He heard the demons barely seconds later, running, panting. None of them fell over the ledge, they all seemed to know this area like the back of their hands. The benefit of possessing locals, he supposed.

The demons slowed as they neared his hiding spot in shadow, and his heart began pounding. He hoped the noise wouldn't give him away.

He hoped the damn thing about his chest wouldn't stop his heart to keep itself safe.

A snuffling noise reached him, and he knew they were sniffing. They were as good as vampires once they had your scent, these tracking demons, the ones that had been on his tail for almost a year now. God, had it only been a year?

They were getting closer, and he felt his stomach drop. Felt his hand reaching for the gun at his waist. He knew it wouldn't stop them, and he hated to do it, being all too aware that he was killing whoever was unlucky enough to be possessed. But it would slow them down for a moment, at least… long enough to get a head start.

Suddenly they went still, and he copied them, hand pausing over the handle of his gun. Then, in a motion too quick and fluid to be human, they turned and fled, running so fast he knew they were likely to kill their hosts. Not that it mattered to them. They could possess corpses just as easily. But they left, and that was all the thing about his neck cared about.

It let him go, and he slumped, breathing so hard he thought he was going to have a heart attack. He leaned against the dirt wall behind him, closing his eyes against the pain in his feet, against the ache in his knees. And for the moment, he just sat.

* * *

For a man with a bad hip, Kris Lane certainly moved fast enough. By the time Dean had made it out of the bar, carried by impulse, the man was already disappearing down the otherwise empty street. Growling to himself, he gave chase, cursing old age and cranky knees. Not that Lane was any younger. And with his hip working against the older man, Dean felt himself catching up easily.

Not easily enough. By the time he was within a good distance of Lane, they were out of the town, into the surrounding farmland. Both men could feel themselves slowing, no matter how fast they tried to go. Dean cursed himself as he realized he should have taken the time to get in the Impala. But no, even in his forties, he was too impetuous for his own good.

Panting, he still chased, refusing to give Lane any breathing space. The man was just as stubborn in his refusal to stop, and Dean growled once more, reaching for the gun in his pocket.

Suddenly trees surrounded them, and Dean smiled triumphantly. While Lane worked to fight through, the Winchester was able to just follow the trail, and he quickly caught up to his quarry.

Then he was close enough, and, giving a roar, he leapt. His leap carried him far enough to tackle Lane to the ground, and the two men rolled over the dirt, Lane giving a grunt beneath him as Dean dug elbows in where he could.

And then they were separated. Dean rolled to his feet with a grace defying his age, arms up, fists closed and trembling with rage. His face with tight, and pale, and as Lane stumbled to his feet, the man took a step back at the fury he found aimed at him.

"What do you want?" Lane gasped, panting heavily, trying to back away. Dean followed him, giving a laugh.

"What do I want? You killed my sister-in-law, you fucking bastard!"

To Dean's surprise, the man actually gave a small smirk. "She got what was coming to her!" he snarled.

Dean gave a wordless roar, leaping forward once more. He moved too fast for Lane, and by the time the man had even dropped his jaw, Dean was lashing out, punching as hard as he could. Lane spun and fell to the ground, quickly followed by his attacker.

Infuriated, Dean punched once, twice, three times, only stopping when he saw Lane's nose and lip bleeding. But he didn't get up off the man, pinning the traitor so he could easily punch again.

"Why?" he spat, and Lane flinched.

"I was told to," he defended.

"Who told you?"

Lane looked around, as if searching for escape, and Dean punched again, giving no quarter in his desperation for retribution.

"Who the fuck told you?" he screamed.

"Demons!" Lane cried out. "Demons ordered me to."

Dean's hand fell, though he kept all his strength into pinning Lane down. "What? You're in league with demons?"

Lane nodded, his chin jutting into Dean's hand in his haste to affirm. The hunter – for Lane didn't deserve that title anymore – gave a cry of hatred and slammed his fist once more into the bastard's face. He felt the nose break beneath his fury.

"You fucking little shit. You lured her down here with tales of my _brother_, knowing that fucking hell spawn would come and tear her up! How dare you, you scum, you fucking scum!"

Tears actually appeared on Lane's cheeks, but it took Dean a moment to realize those tears were his own. Twelve years of grief, guilt, anger, frustration, betrayal, all rolled into one. But the squirmy little shit beneath him shook his head.

"No, not tales, I swear! Sam Winchester's around somewhere!"

Dean stilled for a moment, his grip on Lane's neck tightening slightly. "You're sure?" he demanded in a silky voice. "How the hell would you know?"

Lane gasped under Dean's chokehold. "The demons… the ones who decided to kill Lily… they're here for Sam."

Dean released his hold slightly, enough so Lane could take a deep breath, enough so the ass wouldn't die on him. "Why?" he demanded, raising his fist again.

"He's got something that belongs to us."

Dean gasped and stood, pulling out his gun at the same time. Still on the ground, Lane took a heaving sob of air, desperately relieved to be alive. Dean paid him almost no mind, keeping his eyes and attention on the three demons in front of him.

They looked like they had been running hard, their black eyes the only things that burned brightly. They were pale, and shaky, and he swore one had a tree branch sticking out of its side, but in the dark of the night it was hard to tell. He could see the black orbs though, and it was enough. He cocked the gun.

"And what does my brother have?" he asked them, his voice completely confident. The rest of him wasn't so sure, and he was just beginning to realize how stupid he had been running after Lane all by himself, with no backup.

"You don't need to know that," the centre demon told him, taking a step forward. "Suffice to say that we really need it. And that you'll never have the chance to find out."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lane bring his arm up, hand clenched around the handle of a gun. The traitor grinned with sadistic pleasure as he pulled the trigger, and a loud bang filled the night.

Dean didn't even feel the pain as for a final time he prepared to embrace death.

* * *

Over the other side of town, Jess Winchester shot up from sleep and screamed.

* * *

Oh, nearly had you! Next update tomorrow! Hopefully...


	6. Chapter 6: Fire

**Author's Note:** Guess who got accepted into their uni accommodation! That's right, me! Everyone be happy for casus, cause she's moving in February! Wow, I'm leaving the nest... gulp. It's big people... real big! But great at the same time! This chapter goes out to those people at Clayton accommodation!

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Chapter 6: Fire

_Terrified screams shattered his own dream, of a peaceful wander through a forest, towards some unknown destination. Sam leapt upright as soon as he forced his eyes open, and beside him, Lily's hand had shot under the pillow to the knife she always kept there._

_The two hunters shared a look, before jumping out of bed, instantly awake mere seconds after the scream had snatched them from sleep. Sam barely even stumbled as he raced to the bedroom door, hand reaching down for the shotgun he kept handy. Lily wasn't far behind him, knife tight in her grip._

_Both hunters knew instantly where the screams were coming from, and reached their daughter's room an instant after leaving their own, ready for anything and determined to destroy whatever supernatural bitch had tried to get to their family._

_Only, when they stormed into the room, the door banging into the wall, all they found was Jessica bolting upright in her bed, looking wildly around as she struggled to wake from sleep._

_Her wide, horrified eyes swept around the room and fell on Sam. As they did, relief palpably smothered the room, and Jessica gave a great sob of it as she jumped for her father._

_Sam caught her, dropping the shotgun and giving Lily a curious glance. She shrugged, and backed away, taking the shotgun with her. Sam kept a hold on his daughter, ignoring her tightening hold as Caleb finally woke to the night's interruptions._

_Knowing Lily would take care of their son, Sam walked forward, sitting down on Jessica's bed, though keeping a hold on her. He rubbed her back, getting worried, and making shushing sounds as he tried to calm her down._

"_Jess, what's the matter?" he asked quietly once he could pry her arms from around his neck. She stayed glued to his lap though, locking her head under his chin. He kept a tight hold on her. _

"_Did you have a bad dream?" he pushed after a moment of silence. She gave a short nod under against his chest. _

"_Can you tell me about it?" he asked, this time getting a shake of refusal. He held back a sigh. "Come on, Jess. You can tell me."_

_He pulled her away from his chest so he could look at her. She was pale, shaking. It must have been a whopper, Sam thought to himself._

_Jessica looked away, hiding her face in her hair. Sam bit his lip, trying to think of what to say._

"_Dreams are only dreams," he told his daughter, hopeful he wasn't lying to her. His dreams sometimes came true. He hoped his kids weren't 'gifted' the same burden._

_Jessica looked up at him slowly, losing some of her terror. Then, in a small, quiet voice, "You left us," she mumbled._

"_Aw, baby," he soothed, bringing her closer to him. "I wouldn't leave you, I couldn't."_

"_You didn't have a choice," she whispered against his chest, and Sam pulled her away again, looking at her rather sternly._

"_What do you mean, Jess?"_

_She swallowed, looking away again. "This bright light came and took you away. You were screaming, and hurting, and it came and swallowed you. It felt so bad, Daddy, and it ate you."_

_Sam couldn't help but be still, unable to think of anything to say. But he pulled her in to his chest again, hoping mere contact would wash away his daughter's fears. "It's okay, Jess, it's okay. It was just a dream, I'm not going anywhere."_

"_Daddy?" she asked, still mumbling against his chest. "Please, don't go on your next trip." _

"_Why not, honey?" he asked softly. She shrugged against him, sheepish all of a sudden. _

"_I don't think Grandad's friend is who he says he is."_

_And that was the moment Sam felt all his hopes beginning to crumble._

* * *

Jess Winchester shot up in her bed and screamed.

Beside her on the bed, her brother sat up instantly, looking around once more for the attacker. But, once more, he didn't find anything.

By the time he had confirmed that, while half-asleep, Jess was out of bed, turning on lights and tearing cloths from her bag.

"Get up!" she shouted at Cal, urging him on even as she began changing, hopping about the room. "Get up, we have to get to Uncle Dean. Now, Cal!"

The younger kid was already moving, shoving aside covers and rubbing grit out of his eyes. "What's going on, JD? Why'd you scream?"

She pulled on a thin hoodie before reaching for her jumper. "Don't worry about it, Cal," she muttered through the material. When she pulled the jumper down though, her little brother was just staring at her.

"Cal, Uncle Dean's in danger! Now move your fucking ass."

"No," Cal defied his big sister. "Tell me. I'm going to worry about it, JD. This is the second time we're going off on one of your weirdo urges, what the hell is going on?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Dammit, Cal, we don't have time for this! The guy who killed Mum, he's leading Uncle Dean into a trap!"

Cal's jaw dropped, but he still didn't move. Jess cried out.

"Jesus Christ, Cal, if you don't get your fucking sack into gear… I swear, I'll explain it all to you, _once_ Uncle Dean's safe. But we have to leave, like, five minutes ago!"

Finally the younger kid started moving, pulling a jumper on over his pyjamas and moving for some jeans.

"How are we going to get there?" he asked, while JD searched for weapons, throwing them with as little care as possible into an old duffle bag.

"We'll have to borrow a car," she told him. "Don't worry, we'll bring it back." Hopefully. God, her brother was such a stickler for the law, especially considering his upbringing.

Within five minutes of screaming the two of them awake, Jess was breaking into a car sitting in the motel car park. She was glad of the dark, and the town's apparent abandonment, even considering the early hour of the night. But it wasn't like hotwiring a car was anything new for her, and within moments they were tearing out of the motel, Jess behind the wheel, ignoring the worried looks Cal was shooting her way.

"Jess, why'd you scream?" he finally asked once more, as they sped through town, hopeful no cops were around. Hopes were granted.

Jess swallowed, realizing her little brother was either really worried, or really upset if he was using her name, and not her initials.

"Look, Cal, we don't have time, and I have to -."

The younger kid cut her off, surprising both of them. "Jess, just tell me!"

She sighed angrily. "Look, you can't tell _anyone_! And I mean, anyone, Cal, not even Uncle Dean…" She shifted on the seat, using a corner to gather her courage. She didn't want to watch Cal's reaction.

"Look, I have these… these dreams. Nightmares, whatever." Cal nodded, but she only saw it out of the corner of her eye. "And sometimes… sometimes they come true, Cal."

"What?"

She glanced once at her little brother, relieved beyond measure to see no look of horror on his face. Just… well, she wasn't sure, but it wasn't horror, and she was glad.

She relaxed, slightly, as they drove out the other side of town. It was around here somewhere, it had to be. "I get… premonitions, I guess…"

"That phone call… about Mum?"

Jess swallowed, forcing back tears. "A dream, no phone call. And that time… I want to get there this time, Cal. We need him."

Cal nodded grimly. "I know. And I know Mum blamed him for Dad's disappearance. Even if you tried to hide it from me. But I don't think it was his fault."

Jess shook her head after a moment. "No, I don't think so either." And after years of believing differently, it was hard to admit.

But they did need him. He was their one bit of family left, and she couldn't take care of Cal by herself. Not when she was so close to breaking herself. Not after Mum.

God, but she hoped they would get there in time.

* * *

"No, not tales, I swear! Sam Winchester's around somewhere!"

Dean stilled for a moment, his grip on Lane's neck tightening slightly. "You're sure?" he demanded in a silky voice. "How the hell would you know?"

Lane gasped under Dean's chokehold. "The demons… the ones who decided to kill Lily… they're here for Sam."

Dean released his hold slightly, enough so Lane could take a deep breath, enough so the ass wouldn't die on him. "Why?" he demanded, raising his fist again.

"He's got something that belongs to us."

Dean gasped and stood, pulling out his gun at the same time. Still on the ground, Lane took a heaving sob of air, desperately relieved to be alive. Dean paid him almost no mind, keeping his eyes and attention on the three demons in front of him.

They looked like they had been running hard, their black eyes the only things that burned brightly. They were pale, and shaky, and he swore one had a tree branch sticking out of its side, but in the dark of the night it was hard to tell. He could see the black orbs though, and it was enough. He cocked the gun.

"And what does my brother have?" he asked them, his voice completely confident. The rest of him wasn't so sure, and he was just beginning to realize how stupid he had been running after Lane all by himself, with no backup.

"You don't need to know that," the centre demon told him, taking a step forward.

"Suffice to say that we really need it. And that you'll never have the chance to find out."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lane bring his arm up, hand clenched around the handle of a gun. The traitor grinned with sadistic pleasure as he pulled the trigger…

A loud roar filled the night air, and suddenly headlights were all anyone could see. Dean managed to keep enough sense of mind to dive to the side, tackling Lane as he held up his arm against the sheer blinding brightness of the car as it bowled through the three demons.

He ignored that though, slamming down with his fist once more, feeling satisfaction as soft flesh yelped underneath. The headlights turned, the car slid to a halt, and Dean lashed out once more, angry beyond measure that this son of a bitch had led him into a trap.

Shouts pulled him back though. "Uncle Dean!"

It was relief and joy all in one, and something Dean had never thought he would live to hear. He turned his head, spying the dark outlines of Jess and Cal, before standing, giving Lane a good kick, and rushing to his niece and nephew.

"Thank God you're all right!" Jess breathed as she latched on, and Dean was slightly surprised at such a warm reception. Then he pushed her away gently, took in the scene around him, and then looked back at her.

"How did you guys get here?" he asked, curiosity nearing suspicion. But when Cal leapt into an explanation, he couldn't help but spread his face in a believing grin.

"You wouldn't believe it, Uncle Dean! JD got this phone call, and it was the same woman who called about Mum. She said Lane was leading you into a trap, that we had to get here fast! Then JD hotwired a car, and drove _all_ the way out here."

"In time to rescue your damsel ass," Jess finished, and Dean frowned at her.

"Hey, I'm no damsel. I had it all under control. And don't swear."

She ignored the final sentence, as usual, and grinned. "Yeah, that's why Lane was about to shoot you in the side of the head."

Dean would have retorted, but a growling noise made all three spin. It was the demons, and they didn't look pretty. In fact, they looked like they had been run over by, well, a car.

"This is all very touching," the lead demon said around a mouthful of his victim's blood, and he felt Jess flinch with guilt at it. "But you know, your little intervention has just meant we don't have to hunt you kids down."

Dean took a step forward, shielding Jess and Cal. And hoping they had enough sense to bring -

"We left the holy water in the car!" Cal hissed to his sister, dashing Dean's hopes. He stood up straighter, determined to find some way to protect his family.

"The only one's who's going to be hunted, is you," Dean spat, grimacing inwardly that those so very unthreatening words were all he could come up with on the spot. And scowling when the two other demons laughed, spitting out teeth as they did so.

"Oh so frightening, Dean Winchester," the lead smirked. "Come on, stories of your wit have travelled far… surely you can do better."

"Sorry," he sighed. "I save my best for those who are actually going to be able to carry those stories. And when I'm through with you… there's not going to be much left."

"Brave words. Vain, but brave." The demon gave a chuckle. "A lot like dear Lily was."

Dean had to catch Cal before the kid could leap at the demon. And it wasn't easy, with the kid screaming and lashing out in Dean's grasp. The demons laughed harder.

"Winchesters always did have fire," the leader pointed out. "But our hellfire is _so_ much stronger."

Cal started to quieten in Dean's hands, but the older hunter still didn't let go, offering his nephew support.

"Don't you insult their mother," he whispered silkily, nearly quivering with his rage at their audacity. "She was a good hunter, and the only reason you could even _touch_ her, was because you had a fucking traitor to do your dirty work! Come on, the demons I used to hunt, they were worthy opponents. But you… getting humans to do your legwork? So very tacky."

The leader growled. "What does it matter?" he demanded. "You're still going to die, and your dear brother is still going to be our ticket to Hell on Earth."

He drew the words out slowly, and Cal finally went still in Dean's hands, the mention of his father too much for him. Even Jess went still, though she had been far too quiet for Dean's liking the whole time.

"What does he have, huh?" Dean asked. "What does he have that you want so badly?"

He was playing for time, and they all knew it. He needed time to think, time to find a way out of this mess. But the moment they moved, the demons would be on them. They were cornered, and one demon each was one demon too many.

The lead demon chuckled. "You don't need to know, Winchester. Because even if I told you, in five minutes, you'll be in too much pain to even comprehend our plan."

Dean's chin rose of its own accord, his stubborn defiance. "Come and get me then, bitch. Let's pit your hellfire against Winchester. We've beaten it twice before… why should now be any different."

"No need," a man suddenly spoke from the surrounding darkness, and all six, human and demon, jumped, scouring the night and forest for the voice's owner. But none of them had spotted it before the voice came once more, conversational and way too cocky for Dean's liking. "Winchester, there's one thing sure to douse hellfire…"

And the demons screamed as a jet of water, holy water, hit them from nowhere, and a man stepped out of the shadows.


	7. Chapter 7: Choice

**Author's Note:** Sorry about posting so late (by my clock anyhow). All I can tell you is that working right on through 'til closing is a pain in the butt, especially if the shift is long!

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Chapter 7: Choice

_The pain was excruciating. Sam Winchester didn't know what was happening, or how, or anything at all, really, not when that blinding bright white light filled everything and anything it could._

_He didn't know how long he was encased in it for, feeling it tearing at him, ripping to get inside of him, using and abusing every pore it could, seeping in through his very skin as if it was the only thing keeping him together. And it hurt. By God, but it hurt._

_He knew he was screaming, and he knew no one could hear him. No one that would do anything, or anyone that mattered. He couldn't even hear himself screaming, not when that light – so pure, so agonising, so incredibly awesome – purged his ears, smothered his mind, made him completely oblivious to anything but that white light._

_An interminable time later he felt a change. A change as in, every ounce of pain flooding him suddenly magnified, and he couldn't even fall unconscious so he could just ignore it all. His screams magnified with the pain, and then suddenly everything was still._

_It took him a moment to realize it, so intent on weeping with relief as the pain began to abate. The whiteness lessened somewhat, and he collapsed in a heap, sobbing unashamedly, because never, never, had he experienced such sheer pain._

_By the time the whiteness had begun to clear from his sight, retreating from his body, he had realized he wasn't at Cannon's house anymore. He didn't remember a lot, it all seemed fuzzy, but he remembered that white light consuming him… eating him. _

_He was lying on his back, something cold beneath him. It felt hard, and like stone, and he shivered, or he moved with something incredibly close to a shiver, because he was so exhausted that he could barely breath, let alone move._

_Darkness fell onto his eyes, eventually, as the bright spots dancing across them cleared. He didn't know where he was, and that scared him, his mind and body fragile after the journey to here… wherever here was. But the fact that he could feel… people about him, that terrified the hell out of him._

_Because he couldn't sense them._

_He knew they were there, could see their outlines, huge shapes looming into the shadow above him, a shadow only broken by the white spots still dancing over his vision. And he could see them, smell them, hear them as they muttered inaudibly… but that sense of them, that touch on his mind, the one he had been so used to ignoring, it just was not there. As if they weren't…_

"_He's coming round," a voice boomed from above, and Sam whimpered, turning his head to the side as if that would stop the noise from penetrating his ears. It was then that he noticed he was soaking wet, and naked, as if the voice had pulled him further from the aching stupor the effort to get _here_ had put him into. But he was dripping, not with sweat, but water, holy water, if he wasn't mistaken. It clung to his ear, his eyelashes, as if he had been cleansed, and then reborn, brought into _this_ world as naked as the day he had entered it for the first time._

"_It doesn't matter," another voice echoed, ignoring Sam's discomfort. But then the hunter felt its gaze turn down to him, and it spoke to him, and he cried out. He couldn't help himself._

"_We need your help Sam Winchester." Whether the hunter liked it or not._

* * *

Dean's chin rose of its own accord, his stubborn defiance. "Come and get me then, bitch. Let's pit your hellfire against Winchester. We've beaten it twice before… why should now be any different."

"No need," a man suddenly spoke from the surrounding darkness, and all six, human and demon, jumped, scouring the night and forest for the voice's owner. But none of them had spotted it before the voice came once more, conversational and way too cocky for Dean's liking. "Winchester, there's one thing sure to douse hellfire…"

And the demons screamed as a jet of water, holy water, hit them from nowhere, and a man stepped out of the shadows.

Dean took the opportunity, refusing to be caught with his pants down. While the demons screamed with the burning steam of holy water, he turned, pulling Cal with him and racing for the car, where, hopefully, the kids had stashed some weapons. Jess wasn't far behind him, and he turned to grab her, shoving the teenager into the car behind her brother. He only took a moment to grab the bag the kids had packed, before slamming the door shut on their infuriated faces.

Ignoring those looks, and their desperate struggle to get out of the car, he dived one hand into the bag and snatched the flask he hoped contained holy water. Dropping the rest of the bag at Jess's feet as she bounced out of the car, he turned to help the nameless man who had come to their… he refused to even think rescue.

The man was still squirting holy water out of what looked like an altered fire extinguisher, a savage grin on his face. Dean felt himself mimicking it as he started flinging holy water at his attackers, though his effort was like flicking the hell spawn with a rubber band when compared to the man's jet stream.

It was enough though, and the three demons in their mutilated victims backed into a tight circle, steam rising from their bodies. Dean felt Jess come up beside him, shotgun in her hands, and there was a determined frown painted on her face. She cocked the gun.

At the sound the demons turned and fled, overcome by the too steady stream of holy water. It was only then that they realized Lane had disappeared. Dean gave a frustrated sigh.

Finally realizing he was breathing hard, the hunter took a great lungful of air, replacing the cap on the flask. Jess broke out in a scowl as she dropped her hands, and they all turned to the man, Cal coming up from behind them.

"Hi."

"Hi?" Dean demanded. "Who the hell are you?"

The guy gave a chuckle. "I'm the man who just saved your ass, Winchester."

The hunter scowled. "Whatever. Who are you? I'd like a name, for starters."

The man shrugged. "Fine. Name's Dune. And, for starters…" He grinned. "I'm the man who just saved your ass."

Dean's scowl deepened, and he looked the guy up and down. He had to be about twenty-five, tall, thin, too good looking for his own good. There was an almost elfin slant to his jaw though, a bright, knowing spark in his eye, giving him an aura of arrogance that seemed to dampen that air of handsomeness.

"I think we got that message, _Dune_. And how the hell do you know who I am?"

Suddenly the man, Dune, cocked his head. "How about I explain on the way? Those demons are just about to meet up with some buddies. And then they'll be back."

Dean felt his hands itching to grab that gun from his niece and aim it at this random man who had shown up to apparently save their lives. He settled instead for crossing his arms.

"Oh really? And do want to tell us how the hell you know that?" He took one step forward. "Or how you even knew we were out here? Or who the hell you really are? Or how you know me? I want some answers, Dune!"

"He's right," Jess spoke up before Dune could satisfy Dean's thirst for his knowledge. "Whether or not this random actually knows that demons are coming right now, we have to get out of here."

Dean turned to his niece, who shrugged. "We're on their home turf, we have nothing to defend with, just a bit of holy water. We're in the dark about who they are, what they want, besides Dad…" No one saw Dune give the girl a curious glance. "We should get out of here, because, now or sometime later tonight, they will be back. They're demons, they won't be able to help themselves. And we should be long gone before we're caught out."

Dean hated to admit it, but she made sense. He chanced a quick look at Cal, still holding onto the bag of weapons; his nephew gave a quick nod in return. The older hunter gave a low growl before turning back to Dune.

"Fine. We're leaving. Now. Are you coming or what?"

He turned on his heels and started for the car, before seeing it for what it was. Not his, being the problem. "Jessica Winchester, please tell you did not steal this car."

She gaped behind his back. "What? How else were we meant to get here in time to save you? In case you had forgotten, that slippery bastard was just about to shoot you in your one-track head! Do you have any other fucking answers?"

Dean turned, a grin on his face. "Yeah, but this car? It's a piece of shit, you could have stolen something at least half decent. And don't swear!"

She poked her tongue out at him, the last thing Dean was expecting, and opened the back door, shoving her little brother in through before her.

Dean looked up at Dune. The man was watching them all with a worried, curious glimmer in his eyes, as if seeing something for the first time.

"Got a problem, Dune?" Dean demanded of the younger man. He didn't wait for an answer, instead turning and moving to the driver's side of the car. He wasn't about to trust this guy with driving them anywhere.

* * *

He knew the demons who had been chasing him had gone after someone else. He didn't know who, and truth be told, he didn't really care. It had given him time to get away, and that was all that mattered.

He had limped back to his home, his lair, a cold, comfortless cave high in the mountains. Some nights he could light a fire, if he hid it far enough back, but most times he had to live with the cold, the dark… he had grown used to it, after so many years. And hell, this cave was a lot better than a lot of places he had called home.

Tonight though, he didn't stay long. The demons had found him here, tracked him here and now he had to leave it. He didn't really care. At the moment he didn't really care about anything except finding somewhere else to crash. Well, crash as much as he was able.

So he took only a moment to gather his belongings, shoving the small set of clothes, the knife, the gun, all into a duffle bag, before slinging it over his shoulder.

It was rough going. His feet were still bleeding, and for this trek he didn't have _its_ aid. It didn't care anymore, the demons were gone, it was safe. It could go back to being a useless lump of metal dangling about his neck.

He walked all night, limping by the time he reached Deakin Hill. He didn't stay there long either. He had to stay nearby, he knew that as innately as he knew he had to protect _it_. But if someone spotted him…

He stole what supplies he could from a local grocery store, having grown so adept at thievery that he didn't even set off alarms as he made away with a few first aid tools and some food. The glory of a life on the run, he supposed.

He disappeared from Deakin Hill as the sun rose, wincing as his feet rubbed. He should have grabbed a better pair of shoes as well. No doubt he would be running again soon. No doubt. They had found him so many times before, now was no different.

He knew of a place, a small shack deep within the forest. He knew he could hole up there, for at least as long as it took him to look at his feet, rest for a few hours. It was too exposed to become temporarily permanent. But it would do.

Looking up at the lightening sky, he sighed. It would do.

* * *

Next chapter hopefully tomorrow, but I'm going out, so you know…


	8. Chapter 8: Responsibility

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the whole not posting thing last night guys! But here's a treat... you all get to find out a little bit more about how Sam disappeared! So, take a look, hope you like it, and I'll see you all tomorrow!

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Chapter 8: Responsibility

_Something yanked Dean from the dream and for a wild, relieved moment he was so incredibly thankful, because even the memory of his desperation and insane desire been too much for him._

_And then he heard it. _

_Agonised screaming, of someone in so much pain that they could do nothing but scream, of terror and fear and mind-blowing hurt. And he knew immediately who it was._

"_Sammy!" he screamed, leaping to his feet from the dusty floor of his prison. But he had forgotten that he was imprisoned, and he banged his head on the low roof of the attic, bringing stars from the depths of his head._

_He remembered it all with a gasp though, and, ignoring his headache, rushed for the door. He had tried it before the _dream_ had taken him out of consciousness, he knew, and this time was no different. As hard as he might try, pulling and shaking and banging his fists against the door of his cell, it didn't shift. _

_He gave a wordless roar, slamming both fists into the door, and receiving only bruises for his efforts. Those screams, Sam's screams, they continued unabated, and Dean could hear them coming from the very bowels of the house. He had to get there, had to get down to the basement, to stop Cannon doing whatever he was doing to Sam, to wrap his hands around the traitorous bastard's reedy neck and strangle him until the life was gone._

_Another wordless roar matched his first, and, furious, he kicked out, hurting his toes, his knee, any body part he could use to try and knock down this door before – _

_An explosion seemed to erupt from somewhere below him, and Dean was blown off his feet, slammed hard and high into the wall before dropping like a stone to the floor. For a moment, he didn't move._

_And then he groaned, and lifted his head. The room was still standing, but nothingness filled his ears, like a bomb made of audio had gone off. The world seemed strangely still in the aftermath. _

_He struggled to his knees; whatever had torn through the house had torn through him as well, leaving him fragile and pained. He wondered what the hell had happened but was unable to summon enough energy to wonder anything further._

_He put a hand to his throbbing head and jerked it back when he felt blood from his ears. And then, as he stared at the blood marring his hands, he finally noticed._

_The door had been blown off its hinges, and stood, open, a black hole leading to nothing._

_Kicking himself mentally, Dean got to his feet, using the wall for support as he fled his prison._

_There was another door between the attic stairs and the second story, but it gave way quickly beneath his foot and –_

_Bright, golden light pulsed, blinding him for a mere second. Dean jerked his arms up, spinning halfway back, before gathering his courage against Cannon's latest weapon and turning back. The light died quickly, and with it, the nothingness blocking his ears faded as well._

_Screaming filled him again, and he flinched, though this time they were different. Still hurt, but more scared. Terrified. Dean's heart hardened and he swore he was going to make Cannon pay. He started for the ground floor._

_He was on the stairs when the second golden pulse struck him, and once again he had to turn away as the light became too much for him to handle. But he could hear, and even as he kept his eyes sealed shut, he heard a window shatter and a person fall onto hard ground._

_As soon as Dean was able, he started forward, desperate now. Something was happening, and it was happening right at this very moment. He bounded down the stairs, taking them two at a time and landing so precariously at the bottom that he almost fell. He kept his balance, just, and looked about for where the glass had shattered. What he saw…_

_Just as another golden pulse spun him about, its intensity greater now, he saw a tall shape outside, on the grass, on hands and knees, and it was screaming._

"_Sammy!" Dean roared as he turned back, jumping through the same broken window that his little brother had. As he shouted, the screams stopped, and the figure on the grass outside looked up. Dean skidded to a halt, horror passing through him, and disbelief._

"_Sam?" he begged, not willing, not wanting to believe. He didn't want to, and for a moment terrified sobs, Cannon's terrified sobs filled his ears as Dean refused to see what could never be unnoticed._

_Sam's eyes glowed with the same golden light as those pulses which had paused Dean's way down to this spot._

"_Dean!" Sam yelled, voice full of that fear and pain. He didn't know what was happening either, he had no clue, no clue why he could feel something ripping at him, no clue why his eyes shone golden, or why his hands pulsed. "Help me!"_

_Another burst of golden energy seared the air, and Sam screamed as that ripping feeling increased tenfold. But the scream died with the light, and Dean tried to rush to his little brother, shock stepping aside for responsibility. But another pulse shoved at him, shoved him on his back, though he had time to notice it coming from Sam's hands._

_It died down, leaving a strange darkness, though Sam's eyes still lit up the night. Dean shook himself, knowing his nose was bleeding now, and got onto his own hands and knees, trying to crawl to his brother. But another pulse, brighter, stronger, more furious, pounded its way from the younger hunter, and once more Sam screamed._

_Dean refused to take a step back though, shielding his eyes with his arm, but keeping his ground. As soon as the light died, he tore his eyes open and lashed out for Sam._

_As soon as he took a hold of his brother, Dean screamed, feeling some of that golden light infuse him, sear through him, and he knew. Oh God, but he knew…_

_He looked at Sam, who, now that Dean seemed to be sharing some of the pain, could look back coherently with those golden eyes._

"_You refused to take it, didn't you," Dean whispered knowing that Sam had passed the test where he had failed. And somehow his brother's eyes filled visibly with sorrow. _

"_I'm so sorry, Dean," he whispered back._

_And he pulled himself free of Dean's grasp, and, too obviously, gave in to the light trying to consume him._

"_No!" the older brother screamed, but it was too late. The golden light pulsed again, longer, stronger, brighter, until Dean had to hide his face in the ground, under his arm, his jacket, just so the energy wouldn't sear his brain. _

_When he could look again, Sam was gone, and all he could think of was, how the fuck was he going to ever find his little brother?_

_Rage gripping him, nearing insanity from his sudden, frightening anger, Dean leapt to his feet once more and rounded on the still terrified Cannon, screaming, "What the fuck have you done!"_

* * *

Dean was surprised to find how much time had actually passed since he had left the bar chasing Lane. The whole town was asleep, the bar silent and closed, and the Impala was the only car in the lot. Dean was just glad it was still there.

He pulled into the car park and shut off the engine, ignoring Jess and Cal's questioning looks. But there was no way he was going to let this stranger sitting next to him know where he and his family was staying, not when he knew nothing about the man.

"Out," Dean ordered in a surprisingly calm voice. Dune shrugged and opened the door. The Winchesters quickly followed.

Looking around for anyone watching, Dean moved around to the other side of the car, before turning his gaze to Dune. "Okay, spill," he demanded.

Dune sighed and looked around. He seemed resigned. "Like I said, my name's Dune. I'm a hunter."

Dean nodded. "Okay. I'll believe that, for now. But what are you doing here, in Deakin Hill?"

The younger man held Dean's gaze. "I've been tracking those demons that attacked you. I've been on their tail for just over a year. I followed them tonight, to you. Imagine my surprise when I found the mighty Dean Winchester cornered by them… with two kids." And at that he gave Jess and Cal another curious glance.

"Mighty?" Dean demanded, missing the look he had given Sam's kids. "What do you mean?"

Dune grinned. "Come on, dude. You're a legend amongst us younger hunters. You and your brother, everyone knows about you. Hell, I'm pretty sure some of the normal population know of some of your exploits. But you're massive in our world. Some of the best hunters going around, ever. Excluding your dad, of course. That's what people say."

Dean struggled with that for a moment before putting it to the back of his mind. It didn't matter. What mattered now was Dune and who he was.

"Why have you been tracking them?" he asked, glancing at Jess and Cal. Dune gave him a look.

"You mean besides the fact that they're demons?" he countered. Dean nodded, a new thought having occurred to him. This guy was after those demons, and those demons were after…

"Yeah, I mean besides that. Do you know what they want?"

Dune went still, a strange, nearly threatening light in his eyes. But his voice was light when he spoke. "Usual demon plot. End of the world, or Hell on Earth, whatever. You know demons, they're single-minded about these things."

Jess suddenly gasped, and Dean felt like copying her, as it fell into place in his mind as well. "And they're going to use whatever Dad has to do it."

Dune looked at her hard. "Dad? You're Sam Winchester's _kids_?"

Dean's head leapt up from where it had lowered, frowning at the man. "You knew they were after Sam!" he accused, and Dune swallowed, looking uncertain for the first time.

"I wasn't sure -," he began before Dean had shoved him into the side of the stolen car, hands rough and tight in the folds of the guy's shirt.

"You little shit!" he spat. "Who are you, really? Who are you!"

Jess and Cal came to stand beside him, and he could feel their own determination, see it out of the corner of his eyes on their set, steely gazes.

Dune's hands groped at Dean's but he was unable to move them even an inch. "Look, I'm not lying!" he cried, desperation touching his voice. "I really am after those demons, and _okay_, I knew they're after your brother, but… but… I don't see what the problem is!"

"The problem is, Dune, that you're not being straight with us! And I don't trust you, not as far as I can throw your skinny little midget ass! So you're going to spill _everything_, what you know about Sam, why they're after him, everything, you hear me!"

Giving a growl, he threw Dune to the ground as hard as he could. The man rolled once, before sitting up, brushing gravel off his side and palms. He gave Dean a livid look before standing.

"Whatever, Winchester. Look, those demons are apart of this huge group of them, a group of maybe fifty demons, probably more. And they actually work together, as a team, as a… a squadron, I guess." Once more he glanced at Jess and Cal, and this time Dean caught the look, and frowned. Dune seemed incredibly shaken by them.

"Okay, before you go completely nuclear on me, I _know_ Sam went missing twelve years ago. I know he didn't die, like most of our community thinks. _I_ know that that bitch Paul Cannon could never have actually killed him." Dean's face hardened and Dune took a few steps back, raising his hands. "Look, just wait, before you kill me! I know Sam went missing, and I know he's reappeared near here."

"How?" Dean demanded harshly, interrupting the man. Dune shrugged, regaining a little of his composure.

"I just do. I'm a good hunter, and I know people, I'm a good judge of skill. I know Cannon couldn't have killed any Winchester, let alone Sam, and I know… I know that Sam was taken. Taken by something far greater than anything Cannon had, and far more powerful than the demons Cannon worked for. Just like you did."

Behind him the kids had gone still, and as Dune continued, they shared a look, horror seeping into them. Finally, as Dune paused, Jess took a shuddering step forward.

"Uncle Dean, what's he talking about?"

Dean turned to look at her, flinching at Dune's sudden, short, sharp laugh. "You never told them, did you Winchester?"

"Tell us what?" Cal demanded, shockingly angrier than his older sister. Dean looked away, twelve years of guilt and self-torture coming back and hitting him square in the heart. He swallowed and tried to ignore Dune grinning madly at his back.

"I should have known your dad was going to be taken."

* * *

Oh my, what does he mean? Eep!


	9. Chapter 9: Trust

**Author's Note:** Just be warned, this chapter has some swearing... you know me, I can't help myself. Though I swear I'm no potty mouth in real life.

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Chapter 9: Trust

_When he could look again, Sam was gone, and all he could think of was, how the fuck was he ever going to find his little brother?_

_Rage gripping him, nearing insanity from his sudden, frightening anger, Dean leapt to his feet once more and rounded on the still terrified Cannon, screaming, "What the fuck have you done!"_

_He grabbed the man by his shirt, dragging him to his feet and punching once. Cannon spun, grunting as he hit the ground._

"_What the fuck have you done?" Dean screamed again, almost ripping out Cannon's hair as he pulled the man up again, shoving him into the back wall of the house. "What the hell did you sell Sam to!"_

_His hands were buried deep within the man's throat, and he didn't care. Cannon pulled at Dean's grip, scratched, kicked out, but the hunter found he couldn't feel anything, couldn't feel anything but that rage fuelling him, numbing him, driving him crazy._

"_Answer me!" he shrieked, punching once more and feeling a savage pleasure as Cannon began bleeding just above his eye. He let the man drop, and kicked out._

"_Please," Cannon gasped, and Dean gave a wordless roar, kicking out again, not in the mood for any of the bastard's excuses. He kicked again and again, leaning his hands against the wall to keep his balance while getting as much strength behind the kicks as he could._

_Finally something snapped beneath his foot and Dean took one step back, panting, but having lost none of that rage sizzling inside him._

_Whimpering, Paul Cannon sat up, holding an arm gingerly over his ribs, tears streaming down his face. _

"_I swear, Winchester, I swear, I had nothing to do with… he's gone, oh God he's gone, they're going to kill me."_

_He screamed as Dean yanked him to his feet once more, shoving him hard against the wall once more. "God? You just sold my brother to demons, you fucking piece of shit! Where the hell does God come into that?"_

"_NO!" Cannon yelled. "That wasn't the demons, I swear, please, you have to believe me, please, please, please."_

_Dean silenced him with another punch, and the man quivered under his grip. "Then who was it?" the hunter demanded silkily, his voice so quiet and angry that Cannon shuddered._

"_I don't know!" he whispered pleadingly. "I have no clue, please you have to believe me, please."_

_Dean looked deep into Cannon's eyes, and he smirked. "I believe you."_

_The man visibly slumped with relief. "Thank you, thank you, Winchester."_

"_I wouldn't be thanking me just yet."_

_Cannon went still once more, fear lighting his eyes. "What do you mean?"_

"_You were going to sell us to demons!" Dean roared, slamming Cannon hard into the wall. "Why? Why! Why were you giving Sam to those demons!"_

"_I don't know why they wanted him!" the man cried, shrinking. "I just followed orders, and they wanted me to lure the two of you here, I just did -."_

_Another punch cut him off, and this time, Dean didn't stop. He just punched and punched and punched until his fists were numb, and Cannon had fallen to the ground, and he had followed, just punching and punching and punching…_

_Dawn found him sitting against the blood-stained back wall, Cannon's deformed, still, cooling body lying on the ground before him. The hunter shook, feeling so incredibly nauseous, scrubbing at the blood dying his hands a deep, repulsive red._

_He paused once, looking up at Cannon's pulverised face. He visibly paled, before going back to scrubbing his hands, trying to remove the other man's blood from his skin._

"_Oh God, what did I do?"_

* * *

"I should have known your dad was going to be taken," Dean admitted, sighing and slumping, feeling so incredibly drained and old and exhausted. "And there was nothing I could have done about it."

He sighed again, trying hard not to see Jess and Cal's fallen, stunned faces, and leaned against the stolen car. Then he hardened, looking up and giving Dune a glare.

"No, that's not true, not really."

He looked at his niece and nephew, and softened. "We were doing a job for this guy who was supposed to be an old army mate of our dad's. We were there for a few days, and… we were just at each other's throats the whole time. We were both having nightmares, or dreams. But we were tired… Cannon had suggested there was a poltergeist in his house, and the EMF was lighting up, telling us there was something there. Sam didn't believe it, he kept on saying there was nothing there. I should have listened to him."

"I remember you telling that to Mum," Jess broke in. "You said it in that phone call, on the answering machine."

Dean nodded, remembering and feeling his throat constrict. "I was stupid," he whispered, looking down. "I should have listened to Sam, and he paid for it.

"He had finally convinced me that Cannon was no good when there was this explosion of light. It knocked us both unconscious, and when I woke, all I could hear was this screaming. It was your Dad.

"I don't know what was happening to him, I really don't. I thought Cannon was doing something to him, but… I was trying to get out of the attic when there was another explosion of light, only this time it was just… it was brilliant, and powerful, and pure, and nothing like what Cannon had used to knock us out.

"I got out of the attic, got downstairs, despite a few more explosions of light… and then I was outside, and your dad… he was on his hands and knees, and… he was glowing. And those explosions of light, they were coming from Sam."

"What?" Jess breathed. She shared a look with her brother. "What was happening to him?"

"I told you, I don't know!" he snapped, the well of emotions making him short-tempered. "But something, and I don't know what, but something was trying to take him." He paused, holding back everything. "And they did."

He looked over at Dune, who had lost his grin. "I searched for him as hard as I could. But I couldn't find anything on him, there was no sign, no anything." There was more, but he wasn't about to tell a complete stranger that he and his brother had been sharing dreams and that those dreams had been real.

Jess let out a long breath, rubbing her head. "Wow," was all she could say.

Cal, on the other hand, was turning out to be far more stubborn in the matter, surprising Dean, because the kid had never really known Sam. Or maybe that was why.

"What about Cannon? What did he tell you about it?"

Dean licked his lips. "He told me it wasn't the demons."

Cal was relentless. "And? He must have had some clue. And why did the demons want Dad? For the same reason as these… people with the light that took him? Or for something different? Well?"

"He didn't tell me anything else, Cal!" Dean snapped, guilt at not feeling guilty tearing him up once again. "I killed him. I beat him to death with my own fists. I couldn't stop, I was so angry. He was selling us out to demons… I couldn't stop myself from killing him." And that fact, not the murder, had haunted him for years after.

He sighed, and stood up straighter. "This is all well and good," he told his companions, wondering how this had turned into him spilling his secrets. "But that was twelve years ago. And," he continued, turning to Dune. "I think you know more about what we need to know now, than I do."

The man shrugged. "Maybe," he granted, his gaze sweeping across the suddenly silent kids. Dean knew it would be a while before they spoke; he had given them a lot to think about.

"I do know this," Dune continued. "I know that something did take Sam Winchester twelve years ago. I know that they gave him… something. I don't know what, or who. But I do know that whatever this something is, the demons are after it. And I know that the demons after Sam now are the same ones who were after him twelve years ago."

"How do you know any of this?" Jess suddenly asked. "I mean, you had to be what, eleven, twelve, when Dad went missing. You would have been just a kid."

It was a fair point, Dean realized, turning back to Dune. The man was suddenly uncomfortable, and he shrugged again.

"I just do. You have to trust me. I do know what I'm doing, and I can help you."

"You can help us get Dad back?" Jess demanded, seeing through to what the man meant. Dune nodded.

"I can. I know these demons, I've been tracking them for a year. I know their moves, and I'm not bad in a fight. I can help you."

Dean looked him up and down. "Fine, whatever. But if I get the idea, or even just an inkling, that you're not who you say you are… if I even suspect you're against us, I will kill you."

He turned to Jess and Cal, glad to see they were in agreement. "Come on, we'll get back to the motel."

* * *

The room was just as they had left it, clothes scattered everywhere, guns all over Dean's bed. Jess led the way in, her uncle and brother right behind her. Dune brought up the rear, and that was why none of them noticed his disgusted look around the room as he took in his surroundings.

"Man, this is a dump," he exclaimed, pausing at the door. Dean turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, princess. Get your ass out of the sky, Dune. In fact, sit it on that chair over there."

There was no way he was going to be sleeping tonight, not anymore. He had too much buzzing around his head, and he wanted to question Dune. The guy was hiding things still, the hunter was sure of it.

Dean glanced at Jess and Cal, who were standing about aimlessly. "Kids, go to sleep. You should both get some rest before morning." Not that morning was far off. But they both nodded, and Dean sat down at the table across from Dune.

"All right, kid," Dean said, wondering at the look of derision that passed across the man's eyes at the comment before deciding to ignore it. "What do you know about these demons?"

Dune shrugged, leaning forward. "They're nasty. Like I said earlier, there's about fifty of them in the… gang, I guess you could call it. It's led by this one demon, I don't know his name. But he's old. Ancient. Powerful. Just not powerful enough to bring about the end of the world."

"Yet," Dean warned in a low voice. "So they're after Sam?"

Dune looked around to where the kids were getting into bed. "I didn't know he had kids," the younger hunter muttered earning yet another suspicious look from Dean, who snapped his fingers to get Dune's attention.

"Come on, focus here. Are they after Sam?"

Dune nodded. "Yeah, they are. And have been for the last twelve years. But they've never caught him."

Dean nodded. "I figured as much. So you've been on them for a year?" he asked. Dune nodded.

"Caught their trail last year when they killed this family in Oregon."

Dean felt his fists tighten. "So where were you when they killed their mum?" he asked softly, motioning at the kids lying in one of the double beds. Dune turned to look at them, and his shoulders slumped, though when he turned back there was no sign of guilt or grief or anything Dean would have expected.

"I didn't get to Deakin Hill until a few days ago. Too late to save their mum," he defended. "What about you?"

Dean glared at him. "If I'd known my brother was alive, like you apparently did, I would have. So tell me, Dune, why haven't you told anyone? I mean you must have known people were looking for him."

The guy shook his head. "Actually I didn't. I'd heard that his last surviving family was dead years ago." Ah, there was that little rumour again. He wondered how it had even got started. "Figured that's why he was running around without back up. Lone hunters tend to go a little psycho."

"What about you?" Dean demanded, getting sick of this game real quick. "You haven't got any… back up."

"I did," the man responded quietly. "Those demons killed them. Killed my family, Winchester. You know, your family isn't the only one with revenge real high on their to do list."

Dean took a deep breath and leaned back, closing his eyes and rubbing them. "Sorry, Dune. I know that, I do. Look, after Cannon betrayed us, I've had a real hard time trusting anyone. Hell, it isn't exactly a quality hunters need in surplus. And you…" He left it at that, but Dune nodded, sighing.

"So you got any ideas on how to find your brother?" the younger man asked.

"Thought that's how you were helping?" Dean couldn't resist, before putting up a hand to forestall any arguing. "Actually I do. You said those demons were after Sam, and I believe you. What I don't believe is that they came running in so hard just to save Lane. I reckon they were onto Sam just as I was onto their little bitch. And they basically came barrelling in. So, we go back to that clearing tomorrow, follow their trail… and hope that it leads us to Sam's trail."

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Anyways, tomorrow night's post may be a little later than normal, for me, cause I'm working until 8pm, which sucks (12 hour shifts always do), but I swear I'll try to jump on when I get home.


	10. Chapter 10: Dreaming

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the whole not posting thing last night, I tried, but as some of you may know, my internet is a complete bi... ah, bum. So yeah, sorry. But to make up for it, in a totally coincidental way, here's a few more juicy details of how/why Sam disappeared!

Have fun!

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Chapter 10: Dreaming

_The forest was so incredibly beautiful around him, it made Dean's breath catch with every intake, with every new glance, with every new scent, new sound. The path was small, narrow, and yet the branches scraping the sides seemed to give way before him, letting him by, accepting him._

_It was night, and there was no moon, and yet it was so bright, so light, and so definitely dark at the same time. It was like dusk without the blazing sun disappearing over the horizon, and like pre-dawn without the cold grey of new beginnings –_

_Sam knew he had had the dream before, and he didn't care, it was still so awesome and beautiful, the light night casting few shadows across the gently sloping path. He looked around, his step never faltering, never tiring, just to see what new things he could take in this time, what new wonders awaited his eyes, his nose, his ears. New wonders so out of this world that even he had trouble believing that they were actually there, even when they were right before his eyes –_

_And yet he never paused, and Dean knew why. Something needed him. Something waited at the end of the path, for him, and for him alone. So he passed the new wonders, gasped at them and passed them by, because he couldn't stop now. After so long, he was nearly there, nearly at the end of the path, and all it had taken was Cannon to knock him unconscious –_

_With that bright white light that Sam wanted to laugh at. Because he knew it was _nothing_ compared to what was at the end of this path, waiting for him and him alone. Waiting for him to help it, aid it, whatever it was. And so he kept on walking, revelling and becoming nervous with every new step that took him one step closer –_

_But it was taking too long, and Dean was anxious to reach out and take it, to reach out and offer his aid. But he didn't move faster, didn't feel the need, felt the urging of his soul but refused to let his feet walk quicker, because then he might miss something, some sign, some anything…_

_Dean turned a corner that hadn't been there before and –_

_Sam gasped. There it was, _the_ cave, the cave in which he would find what he had been searching for, walking towards for so many nights that it had almost cost him his life, and his brother's. He entered the cave and –_

_Dean gasped once again. The interior of the cave was perfectly spherical, besides the flat floor, and shiny and black, like it was made of some kind of metal. He reached out to touch the wall, and had barely felt the warm humming, as of something alive when a bright golden light –_

_Flared into existence behind him. Sam spun and stumbled backwards, splayed against the cold-looking, warm wall of the cave-sphere, barely felt the wall responding, pulsing, calling, because that golden light was just so –_

_Powerful, like strength made animate, because it pulsed with the wall behind Dean, calling out to his soul… and he felt his soul responding, being pulled, and he pushed off the wall, barely breathing with the sudden wonder flooding him. Because this –_

_Golden light was _nothing_ like the forest outside. Sam took a shuddering, sobbing breath, feeling it pull at him, feeling it tug at his soul. But he didn't dare to move, refused to move towards it, because he could feel the strength –_

_And the horror, oh God, the horror humming right alongside that strength, mixed in with darkness, and something that Dean could only describe as the End of the World. And he knew, even as he walked towards it, that if he took it, if he took that golden light that made the forest outside abate into nothingness –_

_Then he would destroy the world. And the reality, the possibility of that never-ending death of his soul, was too close in the past for him to risk it once more, even for the promise that power suggested –_

_Dean couldn't help himself, he walked towards it, knowing he shouldn't, knowing that he had to take that power, convincing himself that he, who had never handled supernatural power in his life, could bend that terrible, good, great, horrifying golden light to his will. He could, and he could save his family, bring his family back, destroy evil for good, he could! _

_Responding to his thoughts, the golden light began to dim, and Dean began to scream –_

_Sam would destroy the world if he took that. He could feel that power promising him once more, promising him wonderful promises that made him cry at the thought of refusing, but he knew he had no other choice. He refused to let it corrupt him, he would not bring about the End of the World that filled that golden light._

_Responding to his thought, the golden light began to glow even brighter, and Sam began to scream –_

_Dean began to scream, lunging forward, desperate to grab it, desperate to right the world, he wouldn't end it, no not him._

_But the light crumbled into nothingness, a last laugh echoing about the black cave-sphere as Dean tumbled into the ground, tearing at it, just in case the light was somewhere, waiting for him just below the surface, it had to be, he would NOT be denied!_

_Still laughing, the cave suddenly imploded, and Dean felt every squeezing, suffocating moment, screaming as the cave crushed him into nothing and blackness…_

_A million miles away he woke to screaming –_

_Sam began to scream as the light expanded, so bright and terrible that he could barely stand to look at it. He felt a childlike fear grab him, and he clawed backwards, terrified of being taken. "Dean, help me!" he screamed, knowing that his brother could save him, he always did._

_This time though there was no rescue, and he pressed back against the black wall of the cave-sphere, and screamed with despair as he felt it respond, felt it welcome him, felt it accept him. And he knew…_

_Knew he had been tested, and that he had passed, and that this test was one he was going to regret passing for the rest of his life._

_And then the golden light consumed him, laughing with the air of arrogance something gets from knowing it's better than humans, and images flashed by his eyes, horrible, terrible, great images, and then Sam woke, screaming, golden light pulsing from his very body. _

_He opened his eyes to find Dean in front of him, somehow the both of them outside, on the back lawn, and he felt like crying, because he didn't know when he would ever see Dean again._

"_I'm so sorry, Dean."_

* * *

Miles and years away, he sat up fast, the waking dream leaving him the same sweat-drenched lost soul as usual. He heaved once, throwing up everything he hadn't eaten in the past day, before turning away and getting to his feet before the stench attracted _them._

He began stumbling down the mountain, away from the shack, away from the memory of a dream, even as that memory faded fast, the details drifting further away into bleakness. It wasn't like it mattered. With what was after him, he couldn't afford to get close to anyone.

Still panting, he kept on stumbling away, the sickness that waking dream – for he didn't sleep, too much chance of being caught – always left behind slowing him down. Actually, lately…

He could always remember having that dream. He could never remember the details, not anymore, though he suspected he had been able to… _before_. But five years ago, the time he had stopped sleeping on any regular basis, when he had first begun having the waking dreams, he had started getting sick. Stumbling, sore, tired, when he never had before. At first he thought it was age, or lack of sleep… and then he had connected it. Always with the dreams, in the day before, and the day after.

And for the past year, any time in between, many times when his life depended on not stuffing up.

Startled, he stopped, fighting down the nausea and putting a hand on a tree. And then he cursed. They had found the shack. And he hadn't been paying enough attention to covering his tracks.

Cursing again, he began to run, despair and depression battling inside of him before the fucking thing around his neck took a gleeful hold on him and shoved him onwards.

* * *

Dean woke with a start, sitting up so fast his neck gave a cry of protest, unhappy after spending sleeping time hunched over a computer.

Groaning and rubbing his eyes, trying to remember that he had to remember his age – and wishing he didn't have to – he looked around the motel room, before down at the screen in front of him. The sentences were still blurry but he remembered researching things. Trying to catch up on what Dune knew about these demons, their history…

Speaking of Dune. Dean looked around, seeing Cal still asleep on the bed, and while the shower was off, judging by the steam coming from the door, it had been on recently, and had been on for some time, which meant Jess was in there. But the irritating younger hunter was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't believe it!" Dean snapped to himself, softly before he woke Cal. The kid had been exhausted the night before. How could he have trusted the guy, especially when he was clearly hiding something? "The fucking shit!"

"And you tell me not to swear?" Jess remarked, coming out of the bathroom, and Dean shook his head.

"I'm an adult," he remarked childishly. "I'm allowed to. Besides, did you notice Dune was gone?"

She shrugged. "He went out for breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Dean repeated, checking his watch. It was nine o'clock. "Are you sure? I mean -."

Jess interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I actually trust him."

"He's hiding something," the older man muttered, sitting back down, and rubbing the back of his neck.

"He's not the only one, Uncle Dean," she informed him blandly, taking the seat next to him. "You weren't telling us everything last night."

He studied her for a moment, relishing in the opportunity to get to know his niece. "You're clever… a lot like your dad," he told her, and she nearly jerked in surprise.

"Nah, Cal's the smart one. Should see his school results. Best in the year, most places he goes."

Dean shook his head. "That's not what I mean. Yeah, Cal's smart. But there's smart, and _smart._ Or clever. You read people. You trust Dune, which, okay might be questionable. And you know when someone's hiding something. You're good at lying… just like Sam." He smiled sadly at her.

"Apparently like you too," she told him, cocking her head. "And you're avoiding the question."

Dean grinned slyly. "I didn't hear any question there," he told her, and she seemed to lose her good mood.

"What weren't you telling us last night? Obviously something you don't want Dune to know. Please, tell me."

Dean sighed, rubbing his eyes again. _Are you sure you want to know?_ "Everything I told you last night was true," he stalled, and Jess nodded.

"Yeah, but you said you should have known Dad was going to go missing. But, none of what you said… I mean, how? You didn't tell last night."

Dean shook his head. "I should have, sort of. But more, after the fact, than anything." He put his hands on the table. "Something beyond… anything we had ever come across, some kind of… I think higher being, it took your dad."

"What, like God?" Jess broke in softly, looking back at Cal where slept on the bed. Dean gave a laugh.

"No, not quite. Something… lesser, but just… higher than a human, I guess, with magic and abilities better than anything we can comprehend, or understand. I'm only guessing," he told her quickly. "I never actually saw them, but… I know what I saw, with your dad, and this dream."

"A dream?" Jess asked, curiously sceptical.

Dean nodded. "For _days_ before your dad went missing, we were both having these dreams. The same dream. I didn't know it until… until the dream…" He gave a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "Look, it's hard to explain. But this dream, it was a test. And the person, me or your dad, who passed… well, I don't know, but at the end of the dream, there was this shining golden light, like what took your dad away… I wanted to take it, because it was… everything I convinced myself it would be. But your dad… he refused, because he saw it's true nature, like I do now. It was… not evil, but still bad, and for someone like us, someone human to take it, would mean the end of the world. We would destroy everything. And your dad saw that. And he passed, and they took him for it. I touched him when he was… golden, and I knew he had had the same dream, but with a different ending."

She sat back, eyes wide. "You're kidding me. So dad's got this power?"

Dean shook his head. "I doubt it. I think… I don't know. Maybe it was just a test, and the whole golden light was just a part of that. I don't know, Jess, I really don't. But we're going to find out."

She nodded, just as determined, before jumping as the door banged open and Dune skidded in.

"We have to go!" he cried, panting. "Our demon buddies are on their way."


	11. Chapter 11: Blank

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone! You know by now that I like to leave a little note at each chapter, and here's the one for today, a meaningless blabber about nothing that you probably won't find as amusing as I do. Sorry, and have fun with the next chapter.

And, soon, Dean and Sam are going to meet up again! Just not this chapter. Sorry for getting your hopes up.

**

* * *

**

Chapter 11: Blank

_Sam ducked into the corner, covering his head with his arms, trying to avoid the blood and parts and odd solid thing flying about the stone room. He still had no clue where he was, but wherever it was, it was under attack, and whoever had brought him here had been forced to stop whatever it was they were doing to him. Their sudden retreat from his head had left him dazed, confused – more so – and overwhelmed. _

_The noise was nearly unbearable, worse as something screamed with fury and triumph. Sam covered his ears, whimpering at the sounds of battle between two species of creatures with abilities beyond anything he could ever hope for. Between demons and… whatever the creatures were who had kidnapped him. Changed him into… something that they hadn't finished._

_A shadow was all the warning he had, before he flung himself to the side to avoid the body flying at him. It was human, or at least the body was, but he recognised the face. The now dead face of one of the creatures who had been messing with his head._

_He crawled backwards on his hands, hating that he was unable to even help out slightly. The chain around his neck bounced slightly, and Sam finally realized that it was the only thing he was wearing. And that he had to get out of this room._

_He got to his feet, not feeling embarrassed at all by his nudity, not when he was the only real human in the whole entire place – wherever it was._

_Three sidesteps later he was out of the arched doorway, where he flattened himself against the wall to avoid a demon flying through the air. He took a deep breath, then another, trying desperately to stop a panic attack before it burst out. Ducking again, he kept close to the wall as he crept down the corridor, moving as fast as he could while trying to avoid notice._

_A lunging demon made him leap aside, and he fell through another doorway, taking a deep breath of relief when the demon came back into view fighting one of the creatures. Sam backed into the wall, thankful that the room was empty, and then twice as thankful when he found a door. He closed it silently and slid down the door to relax for just a moment._

_Then he stood up, the noises of dying and fighting and power too much for him to bear, too much to handle if he was just sitting there, waiting to be found. The room was dimly lit, though not by any light he could see. It was enough, to see around, to find something. No one out there might care if he was… hanging out, but he would be able to defend himself better if he at least had some pants on. And he knew he wasn't getting out without a fight._

_The necklace still dangling over his chest, he searched roughly through the room, hitting gold when he found a chest of old clothes and a few pairs of pants that would fit. He pulled on the pair with the least holes, shrugged over the lack of a shirt, before looking around for anything he could use as a weapon._

_A bang as the door slammed open made him jump and spin, shrinking once more as a demon tackled a creature into the room. He tried to fold into the shadows, tried to disappear as the demon mauled the creature, ripping into him with human nails and teeth… and then it looked up._

"_There you are," it spat, blood dribbling from its chin. Sam jerked to a stand, backing into the wall and nearly falling over the chest of clothes. Then it looked down to his chest. "You've got something I want."_

_Sam looked down to his chest, and the talisman, or pendant, or whatever it was, it glittered even in the dim light. He looked back up, seeing the demon creeping, stalking forward, growling, animalistic. And, suddenly protective, he grabbed the pendant in his hand. _

_Power roared inside of him, and Sam fell, suddenly exhausted, legs like jelly. He shook his head, digging his ribs out of the corner of the chest, and used his rubber-like arms to haul himself to atop the chest. And looked around._

_The demon was dead. He knew it had to be, though he had no idea how. The body, the victim, was a mangled mess of blood where it had been crushed against the wall, and no demon had escaped its mouth._

_He dragged himself to his feet, panting, wondering how the hell he was even still moving after a telekinetic burst like that. He could feel something dragging at him, urging him on, and he assumed it was determination, sheer will to live. _

_He kept a hand on the pendant around his neck and crept from the room._

_The fighting had moved away, and he started off in the opposite direction, thinking hurriedly, and moving even faster, a slight jog, all he could manage, more even. But he knew. The demons were here after him. Or rather, after the thing about his neck._

_Another surge of protectiveness made him stumble, and it was lucky, because he just missed a slash that would have decapitated him. Falling to the ground, he rolled away, spying the demon and its machete out of the corner of his eye._

_He rolled to his feet, hands up in a traditional fighting stance. The demon eyed him like he was crazy._

"_Come on, Winchester, don't be like that," it warned. "We were going to be family, once."_

_Sam snarled. "Never!" he shouted, realizing his mistake when he heard booted feet running towards the two of them. None of the creatures who had brought him here wore boots. Not here at least._

_He needed to get away, and quickly. Hoping surprise would work, he lunged forward, crying out but never stopping as something slashed under his ribs, the cold metal of the machete cutting a thin, shallow slice that burned like fire. But he refused to stop, punching out, kicking. The demon sidestepped, and Sam landed with both feet running._

_He didn't stop, hand once more tightly clenched about the pendant. His bare feet slapped the warm stone underneath, other arm holding his bleeding side. But he didn't stop, that… determination? Will to live? Damn Winchester stubbornness?_

_Whatever it was, he kept running, taking random corners, hoping he wasn't moving deeper into this lair. _

_And then, turning a corner, he skidded to a halt, a wall of golden light barring his way._

_It hummed, slightly, something magical, and almost alive, and Sam reached out his hand, as if to touch it, before snapping the offending limb back. He didn't want to touch it, didn't want to pass through it, but he knew he would have to. Because it was the only way out, just like the golden light consuming him had been his way in._

_He took a shallow breath before hearing demons running after him, their boots ringing like warning bells in his head. He had to get out of here, and quickly._

_He reached out with his right hand again, his left still tight around the pendant. He bit his lip as the golden wall inched closer, slowly, could hear his breath and blood pounding in his ears, could hear the demons getting closer, closer, closer…_

_His hand touched the wall and his whole body jerked, sucked into the golden wall, a deafening silence filling his ears as everything and anything was shut off, was sealed from him. _

_He was moving but he wasn't, a sense of rushing through time and space when he could feel nothing rushing past, nothing ruffling his hair, or jerking him around, or anything. Except…_

_That deafening silence grew within his own head, and he felt as if he put his hands to his temples, groaning as the pressure grew inside his mind. And it did grow, grow until he thought his head was going to explode, or implode, or just plain die, he didn't care, because that pressure was hurting now, and it was ripping his… mind… to… shreds…_

* * *

Dean shook his head. "I doubt it. I think… I don't know. Maybe it was just a test, and the whole golden light was just a part of that. I don't know, Jess, I really don't. But we're going to find out."

She nodded, just as determined, before jumping as the door banged open and Dune skidded in.

"We have to go!" he cried, panting. "Our demon buddies are on their way."

Jess nearly leapt to her feet, but Dean followed more sedately, his inherent suspicion making him wary.

"How do you know that?" he demanded, while Jess rounded on her brother, pulling him from sleep.

Dune actually growled. "Winchester, if there's any time you need to start trusting me, now would be that time."

"Give me one good reason why I should?"

"Because I haven't tried to kill you!" Dune snapped, exasperated. "You hunters, always so suspicious, and you're worse than the rest of them! Trust me!"

Dean's eyebrows rose at the order. And he knew that was what it was. Hell, Jess and Cal knew it as well, and they both paused to look at the kid where he stood demandingly in front of them all.

Dune sighed and rubbed his face. "Look, Winchester, I know these demons, and I know these demons are coming, right now. Trust me, I've been on their tails for a year, they've never been on mine, and I really don't want that to change before I have a chance to smoke these bastards!"

"That's what I don't get," Dean retorted, partially just for the sake of retorting. "You want these demons dead, and yet now you want to run?"

Dune glared. "However immature I may look, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know we can't take these demons in a pitched battle, not with the amount coming. I'm against these demons, don't you worry Winchester. I've been after them for longer than you would believe. And I know how to fight them. If it's Sam Winchester they want, I'll do anything I can to stop them, because that would mean disaster. In the meantime, I'll take them out when I can and where I can. Neither is now. So get your sorry ass moving!"

The older hunter finally gave way, though it was no easy task. He snapped his fingers at Jess and Cal where they were still unmoving, before throwing his own things into his own bag. Dune gave a sigh of relief behind him and Dean flexed his fingers, trying to hide his growing suspicion. He hadn't like Dune's tone when the kid had promised to do anything from stopping the demons from getting Sam. Dean knew Dune really was prepared to do anything, whether it was in Sam's best interest or not.

Ten minutes later they were gone, and on their way through town, heading for the clearing from the night before. Dean didn't see one trace of a demon, but deigned not to remark on it.

The clearing was abandoned in the daylight, the nearest farm far away, and almost no trace of civilisation anywhere, despite its locality to Deakin Hill. Dean parked the Impala on the side of the dirt road leading into the mountains, trusting it would be safe. The old girl hadn't abandoned him yet, and he knew she wasn't about to any time soon.

It wasn't hard to find the demon's tracks; they hadn't exactly crept in, and Dean gave the kids an excited glance as they began their own hunt, finally. No one cared to mention, or even realize, that the hunt for Lily Winchester's killer had been shoved aside, silently and unanimously, by the once-abandoned search for her missing husband. They all knew that Kris Lane could wait. None of them felt that Sam Winchester could do the same.

The path was clear through the trees, a distinct trail to follow, of which Dean was at first glad, though where the demons had come from so quickly, and why, were questions he desperately wanted to answer. But the four of them traced it back through the forest, the world nearly silent about them, though the odd call of a bird made at least one of them jump. Dean took the lead, the kids between him and Dune, and while he very nearly trusted the man, the older hunter managed to keep one eye on the kid the whole time.

After a half hour though, Dean began to feel his stomach roll. They had been following the trail carefully, but for far longer than Kris Lane had known Dean was on his back. And the demons couldn't have known about him beforehand. Could they? And those other questions continued to plague him. Where? Why? What had they wanted?

He paused, indecisive and suspicious, looking around, finally noticing the way the forest was so quiet, as if something had startled all the creatures right down to the bone.

"What is it, Uncle Dean?" Cal asked in a soft voice from his position right behind Dean. The older hunter shook his head, gut rolling.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "But something's not right. We've been on this trail for too long in the same direction." Dammit, but Sam had always been the one good at this nature stuff, and even after years solo, Dean hadn't managed to catch up to his younger brother.

"What do you mean?" Jess asked in a flat voice. Dean shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to make sense of them.

"I think this was set up," he answered breathlessly, the sudden feeling of eyes all around him nearly overbearing. "I think we're walking right into a trap."

Dune gave a small growl, not sensing any of the same things. And he knew these demons. "I disagree," he called out from the rear. "Those demons had been running for a while, and they'd been running quickly. They would have taken the most direct route. And they've been the masters of this area for years… they're not going to think about someone actually taking the opportunity to stalk them in their own home."

Dean had to admit, the guy was making sense. He withheld a sigh, looking back at Dune, who shrugged. But there was still something about him; Dean just couldn't trust him.

He started walking again though, easily convinced – he wanted to find Sam so badly, needed his little brother – and watching the trail, noticing how it never veered, not once, the demons never chancing direction, or moving around something. No, it was far too straight, and the hairs on the back of his neck were starting to tingle, accompanying the feeling in his gut.

Five minutes later he had to stop again, his instincts all but screaming at him and after so long in the business, he wasn't about to go against them, not when those instincts had kept him alive long after he should have been dead. "No, something's not right," he told his companions, turning.

And crying out when something ripped through his shoulder.

He spun around, falling the ground, clutching his left shoulder where the bullet had passed through, groaning and feeling the blood nearly gushing through his fingers.

Then footsteps walked forwards, and they all spotted the woman striding forth from the trees, her eyes darker than night, the gun in her hand still smoking.

"You really should have listened to your gut, Winchester," she called out as a dozen more demons came out from the shadows. "And not that fool behind you."

Dean got to his feet, grimacing as his shoulder throbbed, but glad the bleeding was slowing. It hadn't been aimed to kill him.

And that realization was somehow both pleasing and terrifying.

* * *

He had been shadowing the four for some time now, since he had seen them approach the clearing. He didn't know what had called to him, or who even, but he had seen them tracking the demons.

And couldn't help but follow when he realized they had no clue exactly what they were walking into.

He had followed them from a small distance, too aware that being close to them would put _them_ in danger. That, and he knew the demons were after them, though not with the same enthusiasm that they hunted him. And he wanted to know why.

He hadn't gotten a good look at them yet, and wasn't in any hurry to do so. But from what fleeting glimpses of them that he had garnered, he could have sworn he recognised them.

And that set his heart pounding, his curiosity screaming, and his gut rolling.

So he followed them, knowing they were walking into a trap and unable to stop himself from going over the edge with them.

And then the gun shot sounded out, and he cursed, racing forward silently. He saw the demon watching something below it, and scouted around it, not wanting to bring attention to himself. The thing around his neck burned cold once in agreement.

Finally he could see them, and he crept around them, keeping them in sight before squatting down behind a bush. From there he had a clear view of the man getting to his feet, and he sighed once in disappointment. Because despite the recognition that had seeped into him earlier, he had no clue who these people were.

They were as blank as the first – he guessed – twenty years of his life.


	12. Chapter 12:Unexpected Meeting

**Author's Note:** Once more, I want to thank everyone who's reviewing...

And now, for everyone's viewing pleasure, I give you... Dean and Sam's long-awaited meeting!

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* * *

**

Chapter 12:Unexpected Meeting

_The steady fall of rain woke him, but he didn't open his eyes straight away, determined to gather his wits and let his headache fade. Hopefully._

_Slowly it began to come to him. It wasn't just his head aching, but his entire body, as if it had been stretched and pulled through some tiny crack in a wall. Every limb felt like it was on fire, weak, tired. And that was just the start of it._

_He was leaning against some tiles, his naked back pressed against them, the rest of his body, just as nude, curled up in a small square of something slippery and wet. Suddenly he realized he wasn't outdoors in the rain, but inside, in a shower. He must have fallen over._

_He gave a groan and let his eyes flutter open. He blinked a few times, half to disturb the blurriness affecting his vision, and half due to the water running down his face. But after a moment he could see clearly, and through the water, and a too-clean bathroom assaulted his eyes._

_He had no clue where he as. In fact, he didn't have much of a clue about anything. The last thing he could remember was…_

_A golden light and the feeling that he was being crushed. And that was it._

_He gave a start as he realized just how true that thought was. The golden light, and waking up here, in the shower. And nothing else. He couldn't even remember his own name. There was nothing in his memory of anything about himself._

_He sat up, taking a deep breath, and something fell across his chest. Looking down he realized he was wearing something, a necklace of some kind. Curious, he picked it up in his hand, and a surge of such overwhelming protectiveness filled him that he had to drop it._

_Scared now, he rose, using the wall to keep his balance when his head disagreed, before stumbling from the shower. The pendant around his neck banged once against his chest._

_He grabbed one of the towels from the hanger and wrapped it around his waist, wondering what to do._

_And then he heard sudden voices from outside the door._

"_Is he awake?"_

_He paused, knowing instinctively that the voice was speaking about him, though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing, considering the voice was high and distant, male, but so very arrogant._

_Another voice, not so conceited, but just as cold, answered. _

"_I think so. The shower's still running, but I'm sure I heard someone in there."_

"_And his wound?"_

_Startled again, he looked down, amazed to see a wide display of scars littering his naked torso, though only one was anywhere near fresh, a neat, thin pink line over his ribs._

"_Already healing," the second voice answered. "He's bonded with the key, there's no other way he could have survived that demon attack."_

Demon?_ He mouthed to himself, wondering who the hell had dragged him here. Or where here was. What was happening?_

"_He's a good hunter, Vaughn. There are other ways he could have survived. Hopefully the key hasn't got its claws that fully into him yet."_

_He got the distinct feeling that Vaughn shook his head. "I don't think so, Jako. Did you see what he had done to that demon? No way he could have done that, not without the key giving his natural powers a shove in the right direction. The boy always did suppress them."_

_Someone gave a growl. "That's what I'm afraid of, Vaughn," Jako answered, though no fear showed in his tone, as if the actual idea of it was completely alien to the man, and he had just been repeating a saying that had no meaning to him. "We need to finish what the demons interrupted and get him back to his -."_

_An explosion rocked the room outside, and even he was knocked off his feet with the force. Screams quickly followed, as well as the unmistakeable sounds of metal on metal, flesh on flesh and the defiant bang of a gun._

_He got unsteadily to his feet, clutching the towel with one hand, knowing he had to get out of here. Breathing quickly, he looked around, searching for a vent, something that wasn't the window or the door. Neither felt like an option, the window because he was practically naked, and the door because he didn't really fancy walking out into the middle of a pitched battle._

_In the end, the choice wasn't his._

"_It's in the bathroom!" something screamed, a harsh, primal, guttural roar of certainty, and before he knew what he was doing, he was jumping out the window to the grass below._

_The grass two stories below._

_He refused to scream as he dropped quickly, though hitting the ground elicited a loud grunt of pain and total loss of breath. But he was alive, somehow he was alive, and he still had the towel._

_Getting to his feet, he limped away, all too aware of the eyes watching from the room above, but unable to follow him thanks to the creatures distracting them with their refusal to die quickly._

* * *

"You really should have listened to your gut, Winchester," she called out as a dozen more demons came out from the shadows. "And not that fool behind you."

Dean got to his feet, grimacing as his shoulder throbbed, but glad the bleeding was slowing. It hadn't been aimed to kill him.

And that realization was somehow both pleasing and terrifying.

He looked the demon up and down, itching to go for his gun but knowing he was no where near fast enough, and that he never had been. Instead he turned to the one thing he always used; overconfidence.

"And you are?" he asked haughtily, and she cocked an eyebrow at him, smirking.

"Call me whatever you want," she told him. "Names don't really mean much."

"Okay then, she-bitch," Dean taunted. "What the hell do you want?"

"Ooo," the demon drawled. "Easy there, Ace. Don't go pulling something with that tongue."

"Or what?" the hunter demanded, playing for time, for something, for anything. But he had no clue who was going to come…_ rescue_ them this time.

"Or I might have to pull it out for you."

The deadly seriousness of her voice made Dean pause, though not voluntarily. There was a glimmer of malicious insanity in her coal eyes, and he knew she meant what she said.

"What do you want?" he repeated after a moment, regaining his composure. She grinned and looked him up and down.

"Exactly what I've got," she informed them all.

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean demanded before one of the others could. Jess was looking eager to begin her own interrogation, no matter that she was the prisoner.

"You need to catch on quicker, Ace," the demon told him with a head shake. "You're bait. We're here for Sam. And you're going to bring him right to us."

Dean went still. "I haven't seen him for twelve years," he informed her with a suddenly tight throat. She just grinned deeper.

"Doesn't mean he hasn't seen you," she said. "The way I figure it, he's been watching you, all of you, for years, even when he let everyone in the hunting world think you were dead."

Dean took a step back. "He's the one who told everyone that?"

She actually laughed. "You didn't know? Wow, Ace, you really haven't been in contact with him, have you?"

Dean refused to answer, but his face went pale and still. "Stop talking about -."

A stick suddenly snapped in the forest off to Dean's right, and he stopped talking himself, snapping his head around to see what was interrupting him. In front of him, the demon chuckled.

"Well that took less time than I thought it would," she muttered to herself, and Dean turned back to her, catching the sudden nerves she was almost hiding. What was up there that she feared?

She motioned to where the sound had come from, and two demons took off at a quick jog, their legs eating up the ground. Dean almost made to follow them, but the she-demon in front of him raised the gun to point it at his head. He took another step back.

There were several silent seconds, and Dean waited anxiously to see what the demons were investigating, what was scaring the one in front of him. He looked back at Jess and Cal, who looked up at him with worry. Dune was still keeping to the back, his fingers curling and uncurling beside the knife in his belt, but he was looking the most worried of them all. And Dean had a bullet in his shoulder.

And then the air was split with a pained scream, and one of the demons flew back into the centre of its waiting comrades, hitting the ground hard. Cal skipped to the side to avoid it bowling him over, before it rolled to a stop.

And then the second demon appeared, running, even his black eyes showing fear. He was running fast, knife by his side, but it was clean, it hadn't been used, and once more Dean was both pleased and slightly terrified. What could scare a demon like this?

And then his question, and his prayers, were answered, as a tall, thin figure walked from the dappled shadows of the surrounding forest. Dean recognised him instantly, could never forget that face, this person, even if it had been twelve fucking years.

"Oh, God, Sam."

He choked it out, and he heard Jess inhale loudly. He wondered how much she remembered of her father, and not for the first time.

Sam walked stately from beyond the circle of demon, knife steady in his hand, a look of resignation on his face, a look that convinced Dean his little brother hadn't seen him yet. But the younger hunter stalked forward, a picture of grace and confidence, his eyes set viciously on the she-demon who had been taunting Dean.

"Get him," she ordered softly, but no less harshly for the quietness. The demons with her began to move towards Sam, and Dean moved to give his brother some help before someone strong grabbed his arms and held him back.

"Just wait," Dune's voice ordered softly in his ear, and Dean felt himself complying, merely watching as ten demons prepared to attack his brother.

Sam still hadn't seen the four of them, but there was no way he could have missed the demons. Never failing, or even flinching, he instead sighed, and placed a hand at his chest.

Bright light, golden and vibrant, instantly recognisable to Dean, flared, so bright that they all, human and demon, had to turn away before it blinded them. Because of it, no one saw Sam stumble as the power used him, used his body, and his energy. When the light died, it did so quickly, so that but for the blacks spots chasing each other across his eyes, Dean could have sworn he had imagined it.

The demons had paused though, and then a trail of the golden light circled the air as Sam twirled the blade in his hand, like the trail of light from those sparklers that kids found so fascinating. And like those kids, Dean stood in awe and enthrallment as the sinuous, foot long blade cut the air with gold.

Confident, lithe, powerful, and now fatally armed, Sam leapt into the midst of the demons.

Dean could only watch, beyond awe, and completely shocked, as Sam spun and leapt, kicked and slashed, gutted and killed, with an ability beyond what Dean comprehended as human capability. The way he turned, never missing a blow, the demons shrinking back from his lethal knife and still unable to evade quickly enough, never taking a blow that Dean could see, moving so fast… Sam had never been that good. And it was a recognition without jealousy or envy. It was a plain statement. Hell, their father had never been this good. No hunter, human hunter, ever had.

And following that line of thought was just too much for Dean, especially considering he had only just found his brother again.

A cry, too human to be demon, suddenly pulled him back from the daze his thoughts had driven him to, and Dean realized he had missed most of the fight. And had missed one of the demons avenging fallen comrades, taking its own knife and slashing the air where it knew Sam would be next.

The hunter didn't fail expectations, and the blade had cut deep into his arm. Unable to hold onto it, he dropped the knife, the blade dimming somewhat now that it had lost contact with Sam. The three remaining demons paused, still unsure when Sam neither fell nor even clutched at his bleeding arm. No, he stood up straighter, a look of desperation and protectiveness glimmering in his eyes. Maybe the demons took it as something less dangerous, because triumph suddenly littered their faces, and they surged forward.

A flick of his hand was all it took. Like he was swatting flies, Sam shoved at the air almost mindlessly with his hand. And the demons sailed through the air, escaping their hosts a mere instant before the victims crashed into trees.

Dean didn't even watch them drop, the sudden silence in the forest appropriate for the moment, the moment when he could finally have his brother back. Everything was still, nothing moved, and it was only the five of them in the forest. At least, only the five that were alive.

Sam was on one knee, bent over almost double, visibly shaking with exhaustion, one hand at his chest, the other holding his upper body up. Still he didn't seem to notice his wound, or he didn't care, though blood dripped down his arm.

Dean took a faltering step forward, and Sam shot up straight, anger in his eyes, though it seemed to be directed more at himself than anyone.

And then his eyes connected with Dean's, and the older hunter allowed himself a choked sigh of… grief, relief, guilt, fear, relief, and a sense that suddenly everything in this world was right once more.

"Sam," he breathed, taking another step forward. And then that 'right' world crashed about him, tumbled down so loudly the roar echoed like silence in his ears.

Sam took a step back, hand going once more protectively to his chest. He seemed suspicious, curious, still angry, a little frustrated. But nowhere in there, in Sam's eyes, face, stance, was there anything even resembling recognition.

Sam didn't know who he was.

Dean took an involuntary step back, and the sudden movement caused Sam to do the same, like a creature that didn't know if it was in trouble or not, and which didn't really want to find out.

Dean felt like crying as Sam's distant gaze swept away from him, and latched onto Jess. Still, nothing, but from the slight tremor the two kids gave, they didn't realize that he had no clue who they were.

From Jess he moved onto Cal, and there was no tilt of the head, no cocked eyebrow, nothing to indicate there was even a glimmer of familiarity. Dean had to look away as Sam's gaze shifted to Dune; he couldn't handle this, not this. He had expected… actually, he had no clue what he had expected, but he had always believed that Sam would know him, that Sam would always know him. Hell, now he didn't even know if this _Sam_ was actually his brother.

And then suddenly, three small words changed the way he looked at everything, at everything that had happened. Three tiny words made any trust he had shatter, and made him spin so quickly it gave him vertigo.

"I know you," Sam spoke up. And he had said it to Dune.


	13. Chapter 13: Revelations

**Author's Note:** Hiya! Wasn't last chapter just a kick in the sack? I don't think even _I_ saw that coming... Anyways, here's chapter 13, and for everyone who is finding Dune hard to like, here's a little on him...

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Chapter 13: Revelation

_It wasn't painful, whatever they were doing. He lay on his back, the stone cold beneath him, the shadows no longer shadows, but strange, human-looking creatures. They were tall, an elfin cast to their jaws, their eyes gentle but determined._

_At least the pain had died down, for which Sam was grateful. However he had gotten here, wherever here was, it had hurt, and it had hurt worse than hell. But they weren't hurting him now. _

_That didn't mean he was comfortable though. He shifted every now and then, itching to get out of… here. Because whatever they were doing, however much it didn't hurt, it was invasive, and he knew._

_He knew it was changing him._

_It was turning him into something, and he wasn't sure this new him was someone he liked. He wasn't sure what they were doing, with their magic and powers, delving into his head, but he could feel the difference. _

_What was more, they hadn't explained anything. Nothing. No welcome, no reasoning for dragging him through gold light and pain and terror to get here. They had just looked down at him and then began to seep into him._

_They were still silent, just standing around him, as unmoving as stone, looking down at a dog they weren't even particularly fond of. They didn't care about him, they only cared about what they were doing, and the end result._

_He wanted to get up, to stop them from screwing with him, but he knew they could easily keep him restrained. He wasn't sure they weren't doing so already, because he was also pretty sure that normally he would have tried, damn the consequences. _

_Suddenly one of them shifted, and Sam snapped his head around to look at her. She was of an indefinite age, but he had the feeling she was old. Far older than she looked._

_And then, the delving, the magic invading his head and altering his mind, it stopped. The one he was looking at turned to look behind her, raising her arm and gently motioning with her fingertips. Footsteps sounded, bare feet slapping gently on stone. He could hear them, even when he knew he shouldn't._

_A man joined the circle about him, younger by far, but still with a touch of great age around his eyes. He held himself importantly, though still eagerly uncomfortable standing as if equal in this circle of elders. Sam got the impression of an heir, standing with his father's advisors, watching, learning, observing a project. Only Sam was the project, and this heir wasn't human. _

_Suddenly the woman spoke. "This will be your generation's," she instructed the newcomer, and he nodded as if he understood. Sam wished he himself did. His generation's what?_

_Then the woman swept her arm in an arc, and Sam shivered as her arm passed over him, encompassed him. Or rather, as the pendant suddenly dangling from her hand washed over him. He kept his eyes on that necklace, knowing it was meant for him, for him to look after, and finally, finally some of what had happened to him began to make sense. He turned back to the newcomer and they locked eyes, understanding sweeping through them both. Sam finally relaxed, and the newcomer stepped back, waiting as the circle took up their magic once more. The woman leaned over Sam, almost sneaking the pendant, the key, into his hands. _

"_Guard well," she told him gently, though it was void of any emotion, any guilt or relief or compassion, as if she had no idea the grief the key would bring Sam or her people. "It's all you can do, Sam Winchester."_

_Then she leaned back once more, this time speaking to the still waiting newcomer, though she never turned as she too took up her power once more._

"_Watch well," she intoned. "It's all you can do, Dune."_

* * *

And then suddenly, three small words changed the way he looked at everything, at everything that had happened. Three tiny words made any trust he had shatter, and made him spin so quickly it gave him vertigo.

"I know you," Sam spoke up. And he had said it to Dune.

Dean whipped around, jaw dropping, heart stopping as his brother, _his_ brother found familiarity in the most unexpected of places. He looked between the two men, Sam perplexed, as if still trying to place Dune, while the kid was standing defensively, chin tilted up, arms crossed.

"What?" Dean demanded, near on croaked. Sam, his own brother who didn't recognise him, turned back. He eyed Dean once more, and the elder had to take a deep breath to stop the tears.

Again Sam cocked his head. Then he shook it. "I never should have followed you," he whispered, taking a step back. "I knew it was a mistake." He continued to move backwards, still shaking his head, horror in his eyes.

Jess gave a sob and stumbled forward a step. "Dad!" she cried, and his head snapped around to look at her, made him pause, made grief and uncertainty rip at him. And it was all visible, all visible from Sam, who had once been a closed book to everyone. But it didn't make him recognise her either.

"No," the lost hunter choked finally, taking yet another step. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly he spun, looking about the forest, as if pinpointing something. Then he swept the fallen knife off the ground, before turning back to the four of them.

"You need to go, now. I never should have followed you. I'm sorry, this is my fault." Sam took a few more steps back. "Run, run as fast as you can. The demons are coming back, in stronger numbers. Run. Run!"

And then he took off, running fast, faster than possible, away into the forest. Within seconds he was gone.

"Dad!" Jess screamed, almost taking off after him, before Dune grabbed her around the waist, lifting her of the ground, avoiding her kicking. "Let me go! Dad!"

Dean barely even turned to watch, so shocked by the encounter. He glanced at Cal, who was staring at the spot where his father had disappeared, tears gleaming in his eyes. The older Winchester wiped away his own.

"Come on," Dune ordered, the only one unaffected by the meeting. "He's right, the demons are coming. We need to leave. I know a place nearby."

Dean followed more by reflex than anything, keeping his head down, thoughts whirring by. Sam didn't know him. Sam didn't know _him_. Didn't know his own brother. He didn't recognise Jess, or Cal, which meant he hadn't been to see them, either. And Sam had been infatuated with his kids, would refuse to be away from them for more than a week. If he didn't recognise them, he hadn't been to see them. And if he hadn't been to see them, he didn't know they existed.

He hadn't recognised any of them…

He gave a sudden roar, and the other three stopped, turning and flinching at the rage on his face. But his eyes locked with Dune's, and the man went white, taking a step back. He would have had to take a hundred to escape Dean as the hunter leapt forward, taking Dune's shirt in his hands and slamming the younger hunter into a tree.

"You bastard!" he screamed, shaking Dune and slamming him into the tree again. The kid winced, but made no move to fight back. He knew what was coming, and that he had it coming. He was just surprised it had taken this long to happen.

"He knew you!" Dean yelled. "He _knew_ you. How? How!"

Jess and Cal had come to stand next to him, but they simply crossed their arms, not offering any aid to the man. They had realized it as well, even if they refused to recognise the fact that their father didn't know them.

Dune shrunk back, turning his head. "I don't know," he stammered. "Maybe I just look like someone he kno -."

Dean slammed him into the tree again, cutting the man off with a groan. "Don't fucking lie to me, Dune! How the hell does he know you?"

"I don't know!" he yelled back, but Dean could hear the lie, and his grip moved upwards, until one hand was wrapped tightly about Dune's jaw. Still the man refused to fight back, or even struggle.

"Dune, I swear to God, I will kill you if you do not answer me straight away," he spat silkily, grip going white with the pressure. Dune winced.

"Look, Dean," he pleaded through a crushed jaw. "I met him once, a long time ago. I didn't know who he was then, I had no clue, it was just a chance meeting. I didn't even talk to him, didn't see him that long."

It was a long-winded explanation, and Dean found himself thinking it was the truth. Or kind of the truth. There was something more. But he loosened his grip. Slightly.

"Must have made a lasting impression," he murmured, though in the silence of the forest, all three heard it. "Especially considering he doesn't -."

Something hit him, and nothing hit him and he flew through the air so quickly he barely realized the demons had returned before he was hitting the ground, rolling, lucky not to have hit any trees. He came to a stop a few metres away, groaning as his shot shoulder gave a cry of protest.

He clutched the wound as he stumbled to his feet, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. And to get a better look at the five demons approaching the other three, Jess and Cal backing away, Dune rubbing at his jaw.

"Come and join us, Winchester," one demon called out, and Dean realized it was the one survivor from the clearing, the she-bitch who had taunted him. "After all, that yelling… just screamed at us to find you, didn't you?"

Dean growled, but moved forward, not about to let his family be attacked by demons without him.

Five onto four were not good odds, definitely not when those five were demons, and those four varied from kids, to injured, to untrustworthy. Somewhere he wondered if Sam had disappeared as completely as it had looked.

The she-demon smirked at him. "A few others are chasing after your brother right now, Dean. He won't be here to interrupt us again." She took a step back, crossing her arms. "You're ours. All of you." And she looked at Dune, grinning.

To everyone's surprise, the man grinned back. "Oh, Asaria, you have no idea," he told her, and Dean's distrust of him grew further as he declared knowledge of the demons. He never should have trusted Dune, never. He felt like hitting the kid, was very nearly prepared to make good on his promise to kill him, but knew the demons were about to beat him to it.

"No idea about what, Dune?" the demon, Asaria, demanded, losing her good-nature. Or a nature as good as it could be coming from a demon.

"What you're getting yourselves into."

"What, by going after Sam and his little trinket? We know exactly what that key is for. The power it will bring us. And there's nothing you can do about it. You're the last of your kind, Dune." Asaria whispered it almost seductively. "By tomorrow, your particular brand of scum will be wiped clean from this world in one very messy and painful death."

If anything Dune's grin deepened. "Yeah, but right now, you're in a shitload of trouble."

And he ducked his head, power filling him, magic so strong that even Dean could feel it. Asaria gasped, taking a step back, and Dean felt himself doing the same, pulling Jess and Cal with him when they didn't move away, mesmerized.

Then Dune's head snapped up, and he flung his arm out, the power rippling out of his hand. The demons flew through the air, shrieking for their comrades even as they fell. But Dune turned to his own companions and yelled at them, a cry far more terrible and gut-wrenching than anything the demons could pull out.

"I'll hold them off. Run!" he ordered, and Dean, still holding on tight to their jackets, pulled his niece and nephew along with him as he turned to flee. He wasn't sure what he was running from, the demons, or Dune's frightening surge of power and ability, but he ran like the hounds of hell were on his tail. Jess and Cal, despite their shorter legs managed to keep up, and the Winchesters refused to stop, that inherent stubbornness fuelling them for an interminable distance.

After a while though, Dean began hearing the footsteps pounding after him, and he paused, skidding to a halt and dragging Jess and Cal with him. Who was following, Dune or demon? Was Dune powerful enough to stop the demons?

Then the footsteps stopped, and Jess writhed out of his grip, spinning in all directions, fast, almost like she was sniffing, but with her…

The thought was pounded out of him as once more air assaulted his body and he flew hard, this time crashing into a tree.

Dammit, but it had to be the demons who found them, he thought as he staggered to his knees, wincing as his ribs protested. At least they weren't broken. And wasn't that just the motto of his life.

Asaria sniggered as she walked forward from the trees, laughing as Dean involuntarily groaned. And then, with a simple flick of her head, Dean sailed into the tree once more. This time he didn't feel the pain, but met the blackness head on, fighting even as it swamped him.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Dune sagged and gasped for air, panting, terribly tired. He knew he shouldn't have gone after that magic, but he would have been dead, otherwise. And the demons would have Sam, or rather, the key he protected. He couldn't let that happen, no matter the sacrifice.

He looked about, ignoring the smouldering bodies of the demons sprawled over the ground. Or rather, ignoring, and not particularly caring about, the now-dead victims of the just as dead demons. He was a fickle creature, one minded and determined beyond human capability or understanding.

He looked about the too quiet forest, and suddenly swore, an ancient curse picked up from some elder in his past. The overbearing silence could only mean one thing.

Even though he knew what he was going to find, and hope was an alien thing to him, he sprinted off into the forest in the direction Dean had run, dragging Jess and Cal with him. He needed them.

He knew exactly what the demons knew. Sam Winchester would do anything for his family. Even walk into a demon den and hand over the End of the World. Anything up to and beyond self-sacrifice.

Too bad neither he nor the demons realized that Sam had no clue he even had a family.

Seconds later Dune stopped, not slowing, just pausing, coming to a complete standstill and never once coming close to losing his balance. He was in the right place. But the Winchesters were gone.

He looked around quickly, seeing the blood in two separate places, a large smudge where it looked like someone had rolled to a stop, and not stood up by themselves. Maybe ten metres away, by one dark brown blood stain on the earth, footprints littered the ground; someone had fought back, and Dune knew it had to have been Jess, keeping herself between Cal and the demon. Too bad it hadn't done either of them any good.

Which meant the other mark was Dean. An unconscious Dean. Dune knelt by the print, waving a hand over it, a look of complete calm on his face. He didn't really care about the final fate of the Winchesters. Any of them. He just had to find that key, stop the demons from getting it, and fulfil his duty as the Last. Though that was, granted, still a little fuzzy when concerning the how to fulfil it.

But it meant he had to find the demon's lair, and hopefully Sam would there. He could sneak the key away without any one or thing being any wiser, and the Winchesters and the demons could destroy each other.

So really, it suited everyone.

Dune stood up again, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut as he looked about, sniffing with his natural abilities, with his mind. Ignoring, or not feeling the sudden frown on his too-handsome and holy face, he took off towards the mountains, knowing he had to get to the demon's lair before Sam. It was the only way to save the world.


	14. Chapter 14: Family

**Author's Note:** Just as promised (to those who read Dear Santa... yeah, cause that little bit of advertsing was so subtle...) her'es the next chapter of Heart of Darkness. Hope you like it, and Merry Christmas!

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Chapter 14: Family

_Something hard hit him in the side, and he groaned, giving a bit of a roll but determined not to wake up. He was cold, wet, aching, and his lungs were burning. His legs were numb, his throat scratchy, and he really wasn't in the mood to question why someone was poking him in the side with a stick._

_But the insistent jab came again, and he groaned once more. Unwillingly opening his eyes, he rolled over onto his back, groaning internally when he felt the mud squelch under his head, encasing itself in his hair._

_The first thing he saw was the steel bridge, two stories above the river, that he had involuntarily jumped off the night before. The next was the face of a twelve year old boy. _

_The kid jumped backwards, dropping the stick that had so obviously been offending this big, muddy, so very scary looking (not that the kid would admit that later) man he and his three friends had found unconscious on the side of the river. _

_Ignoring the four munchkins watching his every move, and ignoring the inexplicable ache in his heart, he sat up, putting a hand to his head and thanking his lucky stars (and cursing them) that the damn thing about his neck hadn't made him drown for his impudence. That would be the last time he ever tried _that.

_And that thought was enough to fill him with despair._

_Suddenly one boy stumbled forwards, and he had the feeling one of the kid's friends had nudged him. The boy looked back at his friends, who nodded, and looked down again, paling slightly at the one raised eyebrow sent his way._

"_Areyouokay?" the kid asked in a rush, exhaling loudly at the end so he was almost too hard to understand. _

_He didn't answer for a moment, just studying the kids. Then he nodded. "I'm fine," he croaked, his throat still sore from coughing up water. _

_Encouraged by the non-violent and calm response, a second boy jumped forward. "How come you're… Are you homeless?"_

_He gave a short laugh. "I don't know," he replied honestly. Depended on whether the demons had tracked him to his latest pit stop or not. But these kids weren't old enough to hear that. Or maybe they were exactly the right age, he didn't really have anything to compare it to._

_The other two rushed forward. "How can you not know?" one asked, his round face glowing with excitement and still a small tinge of fear._

"_Don't you have a house?" the other asked, and they all had matching curious stares now, their eyes wide. He decided to answer the second question, it was far easier._

"_Nah, I just live where my feet take me," he told them, kind of enjoying this childish awe. A lot better than the hate and evil he usually had coming his way. _

"_Are you really okay?" the first boy asked, his eagerness dying down slightly as he once more took the stranger in. The mud, the bruises, scratches that he couldn't feel yet. _

_He nodded slowly, losing his own grin. "I'm fine, kid. You don't have to worry about me." _

"_How'd you end up here?" the same kid asked, serious now that the adventure had died down. He shook his head, mud covered locks of hair hitting the sides of his face._

"_I was pulled off the bridge," he answered before he could stop himself_

"_Who pulled you off?" another kid asked, and he shook his head again, putting a hand to his chest. _

"_No one you'd know?"_

"_How about me?" a cold voice suddenly demanded from behind, and he jumped to his feet, twirling about, a malicious snarl on his face. _

_Not that a snarl did much good against the six demons ranged against him, and he could have kicked himself. He shouldn't have stayed, he should have left as soon as he had woken._

"_Who are they?" the lead demon asked in his cold voice, nodding at the kids._

_He took a step in front of them. "Nothing you need to be concerned about," he spat, feeling the kids trembling behind him. He wanted to scream at them to run, but these demons were like dogs when offered a chase. Violent, vicious dogs who enjoyed ripping people apart._

_The lead demon glanced around him. "Really? But they look good enough to eat," he laughed, and one of the kids gave a whimper, which only set the demons off more._

_He felt his chin rise, and wondered at why the thing about his neck hadn't taken a hold on him yet. "Leave them alone," he ordered icily._

_The demons' chuckles died down. "Well, we do have bigger fish to fry," the leader muttered oily. "Besides, you don't even know them. Killing them would only be a bit of fun."_

_He stood up straighter. "And killing you will be so very sweet," he threatened seriously, confidently, and the demon gave a pause, looking at him for the first time. _

"_Careful, boy," it warned. "That family of yours is still out there, just waiting for us to sink our teeth in."  
_

_He went still, suddenly realizing that this demon knew all about him. Everything. Suddenly he didn't want to kill the bastard, but wanted to question him, make him answer, make the demon tell him exactly who -. _

_He shoved the thoughts away. He was a hunted man. Anyone he got close to was a target, and he wasn't about to let anyone else die because of him. _

"_My family's dead," he told them, grief filling his voice, and the demons paused, actually taking him seriously. It wasn't hard to lie, because he didn't even know if it was a lie. Besides, if it wasn't, it didn't matter. They could never be anything but dead to him, not while demons hunted him._

_He looked away, real tears filling his eyes. His head snapped up, unable to stop the real grief tearing at him. Behind him, one of the kids again made a small noise._

"_Do you know what it's like?" he demanded of them, his voice rising. "Do you know what it's like to watch your family leave you, to leave them alone to die? Do you? Do you!"_

_And with an incoherent scream, he lunged at them, unable to stop himself. Without a weapon, without calm, without the fucking thing about his neck screwing with him, he attacked, adrenaline surging, catching them completely by surprise._

_Possessing someone or not, demons suffered the same unconsciousness as people, and, caught unawares, unable to pre-empt the random attack, one fell beneath his fists as he rained down on them, lashing out with as much strength as he could muster._

_One was down before the other five even began to counter the attack._

_They moved as one, and he felt himself overwhelmed for the barest moment, letting it happen, not forgetting those kids in his moment of insanity and need for bloodshed. But as they disappeared from sight, he lashed out once more._

_His kick caught one right in it's privates, and the demon, bent over double, met his fist as it winced with it's victim's pain. Pain lanced down his arm as it hit something hard, but the demon went down, blood gushing from the broken nose._

_That left four, and though two had gone down in a matter of seconds, he knew they wouldn't do so just as easily._

_He spun, blocking a strike, but unable to block a telekinetic burst from another demon that sent him sailing into the air. He hit the surface of the river hard._

_He had barely resurfaced before two of the demons were beside him, staying afloat without trouble. Before he knew it, they both had two hands on top of his head and were pushing him under._

_He managed a great lungful of air just before he was submerged, but knew it wouldn't last long as he struggled to remove the demon grip from his hair._

_But then one was underwater with him, and it seemed to move just as well as it did on land, punching him hard. He couldn't even block it, could only take it and felt precious bubbles escape from between swelling lips._

_Even though he saw the second punch coming, and the kick, there was little he could do. Whatever powers the key endowed him, freedom of movement underwater just wasn't one of them. He was going to die, and the acknowledgement was accompanied by yet more bubbles of air._

_He was ready to begin gasping by then, and he twisted desperately in the demon's grip, bubbles escaping without aid of a fist or foot, fear deadening his stomach, lack of oxygen deadening his limbs. Oh god he was going to die!_

_Something burst from him and he couldn't help but gasp as it did, coughing as he inhaled water, coughing again as the coughing fit bit deep into a deadly circle of cough and inhale. But the grip in his hair was gone, and he shot to the surface, just in time to see the spray of water as the demon that had been holding him down hit the water a small distance away near the edge of the river. Hitting shallow water, it didn't move again that he could see._

_The other demon surfaced with him, and he tried to keep an eye on it, even as he gasped for air, and coughed, his lungs burning once more. It circled him, eyes focused on him, intent obviously fatal. _

_Suddenly inspiration struck him, and he grinned ferociously, feeling about in his pocket even as he felt his legs tiring from keeping him afloat. But he managed to grab the crucifix in his pocket, and he held it up slowly as he began to chant in Latin, taking the key in his other hand to boost his strength. It complied only unwillingly._

_The demon's eyes widened as the chant began through puffy lips and with a coarse throat. The weak voice didn't make it any less binding though, and it began to strike out for the bank of the river, panicking and splashing._

_He watched it leave, knowing it was getting what was coming. He finished the chant, some long lost memory from his past, and dropped the cross in the water, his grin slipping slightly as the demon screamed, submerged in a river of holy water. _

_The shrieks were sure to attract attention, so he started for the opposite bank immediately, ignoring the mind-splitting agony of the demon and telling himself it deserved everything._

_It was only when his feet touched the muddy bottom of the river, and he had all but collapsed on the bank when the key took hold, driving him to his feet and forcing him ever onward._

* * *

Exhausted by his recent activities, he still ran as hard as he could, determined to do it this time without the aid of the key. It was hard, forcing his feet one in front of the other, stumbling, nearly falling, running as much to get away from those people who apparently knew him as he fled the demons.

They were after him, the demons. He could hear their feet pounding away in the soft earth, keeping pace with him easily, prepared to run their hosts to death if it was necessary.

It wasn't. He was so unbelievably tired, sick of it all, sick of running and hiding, and not knowing what he was running and hiding from. Not knowing why he had this fucking responsibility, why he had been cursed with it. He was almost ready to give up, if only the key would let him.

He took a sharp left, leaping onto rock he suddenly saw to the side, and heaving with relief when his footprints showed no sign of diversion. It looked like they just disappeared.

Slightly panting, he hopped from rock to rock, taking it slow, taking the chance to recuperate, at least a little. He could hear the steady gurgle of a creek nearby, and hoped he could lose the demons in it. At least then he could…

What? Get away? And leave those other four to the demons? His heart baulked at that, though he could tell the key was all in favour of it. But they had known him. And the older man, at least, had been devastated by the fact that he didn't recognise him.

Sam. That's what the man had called him. Somehow, none of the demons who had caught up to him, who had known of him _before_, had ever actually called him by his name, that he could remember. Twelve years without a name, and now he had something to go by. Did it even matter? What use was a name without a life to go with it?

But Sam wasn't all he had been called. No, that girl had called him… had called him…

"Dad," he muttered to himself, pausing as he reached the creek, and realizing he hadn't been paying enough attention to his surroundings. For some reason, for the first time in his memory, that didn't bother him. Because… was it possible? Did he have kids? He guessed it was possible, he figured he was old enough.

He stepped into the creek, gasping with the cold of the water. But it was a quiet gasp, to go with the quiet of the forest and the gentle bubbling of the creek. He had fooled the demons, and that made him grin. It didn't help his current predicament though.

Leave or find them? What would it be like to actually travel with someone, to have help, to not be alone? God, what if they really were his family?

He started as he thought he made too big a splash, as something wet dripped down his face. Then he started again, because it wasn't water, they were tears, and he was crying. Oh God, to have a family, someone who cared about him.

He paused once more, the easy current sweeping about his shins. Did he dare find them? It would put them all in danger…

Then again, he already had. The demons were after them, and it had to be because they were, or used to be, people close to his heart.

He turned about, searching with his mind, ready to welcome the headache that always accompanied this use of psychic ability. He had to find them, he needed them, he couldn't do this alone. And that realization was suddenly so spectacularly clear that he wondered that he hadn't known it before. This task wasn't meant for one person.

His heart pounded as he realized the demons had them. Had his… family? He turned to face the mountains, knowing exactly where the demons would take them. He had to know where the demons holed up, it was the only way to avoid the place. But now, now he started for it, hoping he got there in time.

Besides, he thought, almost forgetting in the face of the possibility of family, the fourth had something to do with his key. That… creature, was the entire reason he had been drawn to Deakin Hill. And he didn't think the reason was going to be great on his end.

* * *

Dune looked down at the farm, wondering how the hell he was going to do this. The place was practically crawling with demons, and Sam wasn't here – hopefully yet – to give him a reason to abandon the whole notion of rescue. But if Sam didn't show up, then he needed the other three to draw the younger Winchester brother out. He doubted the man would just come to him.

A snapping branch was all the warning he had. Before Dune could even turn, a knife was pressed against his ribs.

Then a man laughed. "You know, if I were a demon, you'd be skewered." The knife lifted from his skin and Dune took a deep breath, completing his turn.

His jaw dropped, unable to believe his luck. It seemed the man _had_ just come to him.

"Sam?" he heard himself asking disbelievingly. It was shocking. He hadn't expected Sam to seek him out, not for a rescue mission. The Winchesters were notorious for trying to take things on all by their lonesome.

Sam frowned at him, then shrugged. "If you say so," he answered, and Dune frowned.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Sam, it seemed, decided not to answer. Instead he crept forward, until he was squatting beside Dune. Realization began to flicker across his mind, and Sam's next question confirmed his suspicions.

"Was that my family back there?" the man asked softly, assuming – correctly – that Dune would know all about him.

"You don't remember anything, do you?" he demanded a little too loudly, refusing to recognise that his voice was heightened by horror and guilt, two emotions no member of his race had felt before. Those emotions were too human for them.

Sam frowned at him. "Keep it down, you'll wake the neighbours," he hissed, squinting down at the farm. "And what does it matter what I remember. Answer the question."

Dune looked at him for a moment. "Yeah, they're your family. Your brother and your two kids." He had never expected this. What had they done to him?

And yet again he had experienced a thought none of his family had ever even dreamed of. Actions and consequences were of little meaning when faced with the bigger picture. Usually.

"And you," Sam muttered, interrupting Dune's thoughts and turning to face the creature. "You're one of the ones who gave me this, aren't you?"

He put his hand to his chest, and Dune, hearing the tightness in Sam's voice, the anger, nodded. "Yeah, I am. Sort of."

"What did you do to me?" Sam demanded, feeling his throat constricting, and looking down at the farm. He wanted answers so badly. Needed them, needed to know why, how, why. "Why?"

Dune shifted uncomfortably. "Look, can we play 20 questions later? Right now your brother's down there, and I doubt he's in the best shape. And I don't think your kids will appreciate any delay."

Sam gave a soft snort. "I don't even remember them, thanks to you." But his heart wasn't in it. Or rather, it was, just not in the reprimand, and Dune could tell the hunter turned hunted wanted to hold his kids once more. Even if he couldn't remember them. Sam continued. "Come on then, we're wasting daylight. Get your ass moving…"

He trailed off, and Dune realized it was because Sam didn't know his name. He stood, dusting his pants off, and offering the man a hand. Sam was right, they did have to get moving. And in the confusion of the fight, maybe he could sneak the key away. Somehow. But knocking Winchester out here and now didn't seem like such a good idea as it had before.

"The name's Dune, Sam," he answered as he helped the man to his feet. "And lets go rescue those damsels."

Sam grinned and took the lead, and Dune didn't even itch to go for his knife, didn't think that a quick whack to the back of the head would suit his plan almost perfectly. He just took the rear and found himself watching Sam Winchester's back.


	15. Chapter 15: Faith

**Author's Note:** Hiya everyone! Hope you're looking forward to the holidays as much as I am! Here's my present to you all!

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Chapter 15: Faith

_The night was dark and cold, and he sat as close to the small fire as he could, huddled into the stolen hoodie and jacket. The small dip was a good windbreaker, if he kept his head low, which suited his neck as well, kept it out of the cold. _

_It was late in the night, a mere three days after he had woken from whatever had sent him into unconsciousness. He had no clue why he had been in that bathroom, who those people had been, what those… demons had wanted. His memory was as black as the cloudy night around him._

_But he wasn't thinking about that now. He had given it plenty of time, waited anxiously for something to surface from the murky depths of his mind. And still nothing._

_Instead, he spun the necklace about in his hands, running his fingers over the pendant._

_It was odd. The main part was an oval gem, black, though when he looked in it, really looked deep into it, the inside seemed to go on forever. The gem was the centre of a silver pentagram, which was then encircled by iron, and when he had first glanced at it, the word devil's trap had sprung to mind from nowhere. _

_It was completed with curved triangles, ringing the circle, so the overall effect was of a sun, though dark and dim and dangerous. Everything about the pendant was dangerous, from the aura it seemed to give off, to the sharp ends of the sun's flames. The first time he had picked it up, the edges had cut his finger, and the shallow wound still stung, throbbed. It was no mere ornament, that he knew._

_And he didn't need the terrifying creatures, demons, hunting him to know that._

_He sighed and shifted on the hard ground. He didn't dare sleep, didn't think he had slept in the three days since he had woken in the shower. Not that he needed it._

_He dropped the pendant, shifting once more. He wasn't sure whether that was supposed to disturb him. The fact that he didn't need sleep after three days of running and hiding._

_He had watched other people, had glanced at them from afar. And he felt different to them. Maybe he always had, he didn't know. _

_He knew basic things, things any adult would know. The world was round, the sky was vast, and people were supposed to have their memory. He knew his amnesia was wrong, bad. He knew things like demons weren't supposed to exist. And yet they did, and the idea sat with him comfortably. That gave him his first inkling that those people he had watched had always been at least a little different to him. _

_And then there was the whole sleep deal. Or lack of it. And he felt stronger. Than what, he wasn't exactly sure. But he did, like it was just innate knowledge. He could run faster, longer, in comparison to both his non-memory and watching others. He was different. Something had changed him, and he had the disturbing idea that the pendant had something to do with it._

_Suddenly he sat up straight, looking around. He was pretty sure that was different too. The fact that he could sense when these demons were close. And they were close now. And closing in fast._

_He got to his feet, leaving the fire to burn. It would draw their attention while he got away. Moving silently, he took off into the darkness, tucking the pendant into the stolen shirt and moving with an easiness he didn't know came from his past._

* * *

They crept down to the farm, Dune watching with awe as Sam seemed to fold the forest around him. He had trouble keeping an eye on him, watching his footprints in the dusk, noticing how they seemed to disappear if he moved his eyes away from where the hunter had stepped.

Sam led the way down, picking, somehow, an easy route, making his way through the bush and trees with ease and silence, while Dune struggled to imitate. But he kept an eye on Sam's back, noticing at odd times, the glint of metal at the base of the man's neck.

The key.

Or the necklace the key was on, anyway. He kept glancing at it, waiting, just waiting for the right opportunity to take it. He knew it wouldn't be easy, Sam wouldn't let him just take it. But if he could get it before Sam knew what was going on, like the moment his back was turned on Dune, then the creature could snatch it from around the hunter's neck. Sam would only be able to watch as he danced away with it. After twelve years, Dune knew, the key had its non-existent fingers wrapped so tightly into Sam that losing it would in all likelihood mean losing his life. He was too reliant on it, for power and strength and endurance, everything he needed to keep the key out of demonic hands.

What he didn't figure on was the fact that after twelve years, the key had wrapped itself so tightly into Sam that it would do anything to stay in his hands.

* * *

"Uncle Dean."

He could hear Cal's urgent whisper, could feel the kid shoving at him, shaking him. And all he could do was groan. He wanted to get up, needed to comfort his nephew, cause the kid was obviously frightened. But he couldn't move; every inch of him ached.

"Uncle Dean!"

He gave another groan and forced his eyelids open. Something sticky came unstuck as he did, and he slowly realized he had a head wound. And that he needed to roll over if he was going to give Cal that comfort the kid wanted.

"Uncle Dean, please!"

"Urgh," he mumbled, pulling hard on that famed Winchester stubbornness. Somehow he managed to shove himself over, groaning as his back hit hard wood. But Cal was there, staring down at him with barely restrained tears in his eyes. He was pale, with a blackening eye and a ginger way of holding his right arm.

He sat up, grabbing at his head as it protested, before moving the arm out to catch Cal's shoulder.

"Cal, are you all right?"

The kid nodded, biting his lip, before flicking his eyes to something behind Dean. "It's JD, Uncle Dean. I can't wake her. And then I couldn't wake you… I don't know what to do."

Breath catching, Dean got to his knees, spinning on them and hiding a wince from Cal. Something was wrong with his right knee, and he knew if he got to his feet, he would be limping.

But any thought about his own injuries was whisked from his head the moment he caught sight of his niece.

"Oh God, Jess," he choked out, rushing over to her and thumbing back the hair from her face.

She was lying on her side, pale, shaking. She was bleeding from more than one wound, mostly though from a deep gash over her ribs. And if he leaned close, he could hear her making something terribly close to a whimper.

He leaned back, ripping off his shirt, shivering slightly in just a t-shirt, but pressing it against the wound over her ribs. This looked far too familiar. And he was starting to get a frightening notion about why exactly that was.

"She's all right, Cal," he said coarsely, his throat scratchy. "She'll wake in a minute. What happened?"

Jess wasn't all right, though she wasn't as bad as her brother obviously thought. She definitely needed some first aid, but she wasn't going to die on them any time soon. She would just have a few impressive scars if they didn't clean the wounds soon. But Cal wasn't about to understand that in his anxiety. He looked down at her, then up at Dean.

"Ah, the demons… you were unconscious, the demons, they came at us. JD jumped between them and me. She refused to go down, not until they knocked her out. I tried to fight back, but I couldn't do much. Well, neither could JD. But we tried."

"I can see that," Dean muttered. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. Flakes of blood came away, and he guessed he looked a right mess. But that didn't matter now. "You did good, Cal. Both of you did."

Suddenly he looked around, taking in the dusty room they were trapped in. No windows, stairs to the doorway, a whole lot of crap everywhere, though nothing visibly a weapon. "Where are we?" he asked Cal.

The kid gave him a frown. "What about JD?" he demanded, one-minded in his determination to make sure his sister was okay. Dean gave him a small grin.

"Trust me, Cal, she'll be right. Just give her a moment." He never had been able to wake Sam, after all. "Where are we?"

The kid gave a shrug. "Some farm, up in the mountain. I only got a quick look, before they shoved us down here in the basement."

Dean looked around again, giving a quick scan for any way out, before Jess suddenly shot straight up, giving a gasp.

Then she coughed, verbally wincing as she put a hand to her side. Then she too looked around. "Where are we?" she asked hoarsely, some of her colour seeping back into her cheeks as she grabbed the shirt from Dean and pressed it down herself.

"Demons got us," Dean explained quickly, wanting to get to the point. "What did you dream about?"

She gave him a suspicious look. "Was I dreaming?" she asked, putting on a confused act. But that didn't mean Dean hadn't caught the quick look Cal had given him, or the slight widening of Jess' eyes. Both of them knew about it, he realized. He frowned down at them both.

"I'm not an idiot, guys. I know you're having dreams, Jess. Dreams that are coming true. I'm not exactly new to this whole psychic thing."

She turned away, head down. "How'd you figure it out?" she asked. Dean shrugged.

"I know what a premonition looks like. Just be glad they haven't turned into waking ones yet, cause trust me, they're painful. Besides, a phone call? I'm just surprised I didn't pick up on it sooner." Though to be honest it had been a long time since he had seen one.

Jess shook her head. "It wasn't… Just then, I wasn't… It can't have been a premonition."

The declaration sounded both bitter and hopeful at the same time. Dean frowned. "Why not?" he demanded, sitting up straighter.

"Because I dreamt Dad was coming," she muttered, the bitterness coming out stronger this time. "And I don't think that's gunna happen. I mean, he didn't even… earlier, when we saw him…" Her voice choked up, and she looked like she was going to cry. "I mean, he didn't even say hi. He looked like seeing us was the worst possible thing. He could have… explained, or hugged us, or just… I don't know." And now the tears were coming, and Dean felt like his heart would die from the grief he felt for his niece. And then… "He doesn't care about us, Uncle Dean."

And then that grief turned to rage, and he all but quivered as he pointed a tight finger at her.

"Don't you _ever _say that," he spat, shocking both kids with his anger. "Your father cared about you more than life itself. He would have done anything, anything in his power, and a lot more beyond, to see the both of you safe and sound. Not care about you? He didn't recognise you!"

Jess wiped her tears away, angry herself now. "And doesn't that just prove it?" she countered tightly. "He obviously hasn't seen us in years! Didn't bother to come check on us, see we were okay, make sure no fucking piece of supernatural bastard had torn us apart. We needed him! And instead he ran about killing things and protecting some piece of shit given to him by a fucking dream!"

"I swear," Dean almost yelled. "You as thick as your bloody father when it comes to seeing something you don't want to see. He doesn't remember you! He doesn't remember me for crying out loud! He doesn't have a single memory of any of us, besides that little shindig earlier. And don't swear!"

The revelation had left them both stunned. Jess blinked back every single tear in her eyes, leaving them washed and tinged with pink. Cal sat up straighter, and it was him who confirmed it for the both of them.

"What, he's got like, amnesia, or something?"

Dean nodded, losing his anger. "That's exactly what I mean. I should have known, too. I mean, I'm a good hunter -."

"Modest too," Jess muttered underneath her breath.

"- but I haven't seen, felt, heard, hide or hair of Sam since he went missing. I would have noticed if he'd come too see me, if he'd ever checked on me. Hell, your mum would have known if he had been to check on you."

"That still doesn't mean -."

"And," Dean ruthlessly cut off. "When we saw him, earlier, I know he didn't recognise me, or you two. Just Dune." And that set him off wondering what had happened to the kid. Surely the demons hadn't got him. "I know he didn't. I know Sam better than anyone. He didn't know us."

"Yeah, well maybe you know Dad about as well as he knows you at the moment," Jess argued. "Maybe you've both changed, and you just can't read him as well as you used to. Hell, maybe you never could, and he just never cared."

He couldn't believe the faith in her father had dwindled so quickly. She had been struck hard by what she saw as a second abandonment.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, before looking at Cal, then back to Jess, trying to find some way to make them understand that Sam would never have just left them alone, willingly.

"Do you know why your dad named you Jessica?"

* * *

Ooooo, secrets, secrets.. that aren't going to be revealed tomorrow. Don't look at me like that! It's CHRISTMAS peple!

Hehe

Merry Christmas!


	16. Chapter 16: Regret

**Author's Note:** Hope everyone had a great Christmas, and holidays!

I had this chapter written ages ago, sometime between starting it and going back to it, cause otherwise I would have been carrying it around in my head for ages.

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Chapter 16: Regret

_Sam paced the tiny confines of the hospital waiting room, his face stretched with anxiety, and pale, wondering what the hell was going on. The doctors had kicked him out, wouldn't let him in, and he wanted to be there, had to be there for the birth of his first kid._

_Dean watched with some amusement as his brother paced, though he was worried as well. There had been some complications, apparently, and that was all the doctor could tell them. But he had faith. Not in any god, mind, but in the Winchester blood and its hereditary stubbornness. Winchesters could survive anything._

_And then those doors swung open and the doctor, her gown a little blood soaked, walked in. Sam's breath caught at the sight of blood and for a moment the world stopped spinning. But it slammed right back into motion when he looked up and saw her gentle smile._

"_Would you like to meet your daughter?" she asked. Sam was so relieved that Dean had to push him to get him started._

_By what he thought would be mutual consent, Dean paused at the doors, thinking Sam would want to meet his daughter for the first time by himself. He was wrong._

_Sam stopped as well, a grin on his face. "Come on, Dean. Come meet your niece."_

"_Nah, you go, she's your kid."_

_Sam's grin widened. "Yeah, but you'll be her babysitter. Come on." And he grabbed Dean's arm and dragged the older man through the doors._

_The doctor led them to a small, but cosy room a small distance down the sanitized corridor. Sam paused again at the door, nerves flitting across his face, but Dean pushed him onwards again, his stomach heavy with excitement._

_Lily was asleep as they entered, and she didn't wake. She looked peaceful, at ease with the world, though the signs of her effort were still plainly visible. Sam's face went soft with love, and he paused for a moment beside his wife's bed, pushing back sweaty locks of hair from the flushed face. And then he looked across, and, if possible, his face shone with the instant love he felt upon looking at his daughter._

_Dean stayed at the door, slightly uncomfortable, feeling an intruder to this scene. But as Sam lifted his tiny daughter and gentle cradled her in his arms, he couldn't help but move forward until he was standing just behind Sam's shoulder, staring down with wonder at the tiny girl._

"_Did you and Lily decide on a name?" Dean asked in a whisper, remembering Sam's recounting of the numerous debates on the issue._

_Surprisingly Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, we did," he told Dean, his voice a little too steady. "Dean, say hi to Jessica Dawn Winchester."_

_No wonder Sam had been uncomfortable. Dean went still, staring down at Sam's kid. Jessica Dawn… Jessica._

"_Sam, I don't believe you," he muttered, before turning on his heel and storming out._

_It didn't take long for Sam to catch up, running, though without his daughter… Jessica…_

"_Dean," Sam pleaded, planting himself squarely in front of his older brother, eyes bright with grief. "Please, you don't understand."  
_

"_You've got that damn right," Dean spat, trying to keep his voice down in the maternity ward. "Jessica? I don't believe you Sam!"_

_The younger man looked around, avoiding several eyes watching them curiously. "Look, Dean, you don't understand."_

"_Yeah, I got that memo. Sam, she's gone. All right. And I know it hurt, okay, I know. I was there, I saw how much it broke you. But she's gone!" His voice was rising now, and more and more people were looking at them. "You've got a beautiful wife back there, and now you've got that little kid you always dreamt about, the start of that 2.5 family and white picket fence and the whole deal. And now you go dragging your past up? What does Lily think about this?"_

_Sam's eyes avoided his. "I didn't tell her the truth," he muttered, so soft that Dean barely caught it. Barely._

"_Goddammit Sam! You're a piece of work, I swear."_

"_You don't get it, Dean!" Sam countered, his own voice raising. "I watched her burn -." _

_The older man cut him off. "I know, I saw it too. In case you forgot, I was the one that saved your ass! But that doesn't give you the right to go poisoning your's, Lily's and that kid's futures with regret."_

_Sam's head snapped up, his eyes full of anger. "Regret?" he demanded coldly. "That's what you think this is about. Damn, Dean, I thought you knew me better than that!"_

_Dean leaned back, crossing his arms. "Oh yeah, then what is it about?" _

_Sam's head dropped again, and once more he shifted from foot to foot. "You can't understand, Dean," he whispered pleadingly. "I had to watch her burn above me, and there was nothing I could do about it."_

_Dean had had enough. Shouldering past his little brother, he muttered one final thing before storming from the hospital. _

"_Sure sounds like regret to me."_

* * *

"Do you know why your Dad named you Jessica?"

The question made the two kids look at each other, both hearing the implication in their uncle's voice. Jess frowned at him.

"I don't understand. I thought Cal got the honorary name?"

Dean smiled sadly. "And he did. You did, Cal. Caleb was one of the best hunters around, a good friend to my dad, like an uncle to me. He never should have been killed like he was." And he knew they knew how the man had died. Lily had known Caleb as well. Dean gave a sigh. "Jessica was… she wasn't a hunter, she was…"

He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how to tell these kids that their father had had a lover before their mother. He knew, with the hurt of Lily's death so fresh, it would be hard for them to understand.

"Look, I have to tell it from the start. You have to understand your dad, what he was like, before your mum met him. Maybe then you can understand this properly."

Jess' eyes crinkled, as if she had an inkling how this conversation was going to go. But she kept quiet.

"When your dad was twenty, he decided he didn't want to hunt anymore," he began, lowering his voice. "He packed his bags, disobeyed our dad, your grandad, and walked right out that front door. He went to college, Stanford, and scored a full ride and everything. For two years we didn't speak, see or contact each other. Least, not where the other could see."

Jess' eyes went wide. "He actually quit hunting and didn't speak to you? For two years?"

Dean nodded, his face quiet. "Your dad wasn't always the way he was just before he disappeared."

"Yeah, but he didn't speak to you. To _you_." Jess shook her head. "You and he were best friends, I know, Mum told me."

Dean shrugged. "We still were. It just kinda went on hiatus, I guess. You've got to understand, Sam was different then. He and Dad were always arguing, he was the most rebellious, sulky, son of a bitch teenager going around." He gave a sad smile. "He hated the life that came with hunting, resented our dad for dragging us into it. Before he went to college, he couldn't understand why we did what we did. He couldn't remember our mum, so the whole crusade was basically pointless for him."

"So what changed?" Cal asked. They were both curious now, drawn in by this different image of their father that Dean had painted for them.

The older hunter's face dropped. "I came and stole him from the only life he had ever wanted since he was old enough to begin talking back. The life he never really fit in with."

"What do you mean?" Jess asked, fully aware they were getting to the point of the conversation.

"Our dad went missing. I needed… wanted Sam's help to track him down. I asked him to come to Jericho, California with me, and he did, after a bit of convincing. We left that same night, came back a few days later. It was the last time Sam went back to Stanford, that I know of."

Neither of them spoke, just stared up at him, Jess' eyes daring him to go on. He sighed. Again.

"While Sam was at Stanford, he met someone. A girl someone."

Jess frowned, deep. "So I'm named after some old girlfriend of Dad's?" she asked, her voice showing how close to snapping she was.

Dean shook his head, leaping into it. "No. You're named after the first girl, maybe the only girl, Sam ever truly loved."

She flared instantly, as he had guessed she would. The wound of her mother's death was far too painful for details like this to be coming out.

"So I'm named for some fucking regret Dad have over some slut he met in college?" Jess snapped. Dean's face tightened in fury. He hadn't expected her to go that far.

"Don't you _ever_ speak like that about things way beyond anything you understand!" he spat at her. "Jessica gave up so much for Sam, a lot more than almost anyone else, and you have absolutely no fucking right to be talking about her like that!"

She flinched in the face of his anger, going pale. Even Cal retreated, though not visibly, his eyes blanking slightly for a moment. Then he leaned forward.

"What do you mean, Uncle Dean?" he asked softly, not wanting to be the target of that fury.

"I mean," he said slowly, trying to rein in his anger. "The night we finished the case in Jericho, three days after Halloween, November second," he clarified, and could tell they knew the significance. "We got back to Stanford, and Sam said goodbye. He had a life, and he didn't want to waste one second of it looking for a father who he felt had abandoned him the moment he ordered Sam to never come back. He had Jessica."

He paused, remembering that night. It was etched into his memory forever. Busting into that apartment to find the flames so hot and high, and Sam pinned just as much as Jessica had been. He cleared his throat.

"Sam went into the apartment they shared, and he almost never came back out. He found Jessica pinned to the ceiling by the same thing that killed our mother."

Their faces paled in sympathy. Even years after it was nothing more than a corpse, that damn yellow-eyed son of a bitch was still a nightmare for the Winchesters.

"_The_ demon?" Jess whispered hoarsely. "It killed her?"

Dean nodded. "It ripped open her stomach so the blood dripped onto his forehead. He loved her so much, as well. The demon knew her death would force Sam back into the hunt, right where it wanted him," he told them, assuming they knew all about the demon's plans. "He was going to ask her to marry him, planned to live a long life with her… and then she was forced to give up hers to fulfil a demon's sick plan."

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, looking at Cal, who was just as stunned by Dean's revelations. Then she turned to her uncle. "Why did he marry Mum, if he never stopped loving her?"

Dean smiled sadly. "Cause it's real hard to go through life being lonely."

"You do," Cal pointed out quickly, and Dean nodded.

"I know, I do. And I it was the biggest mistake I ever made, Cal. Cutting you out of my life when Sam went missing… It was the stupidest thing I have ever done. I mean, your mum, Lily would have probably done it for me anyway, but I should have tried to make things better between us. Maybe she wouldn't be dead if I had."

There was a huge, uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Jess spoke up. "So… I'm named after Dad's first love. Why? Do I remind him of her?"

Dean shook his head. "No, that's not why. You look nothing like her. Personality wise… well, I didn't know her well enough to tell, and besides, Sam wouldn't have known your personality when you were born."

"So why do I have that name?" Jess asked, confused.

Dean grinned sadly once more. "It took me ages to figure it out, and Sam even had to help me in the end. When I found out what he had named you, I thought like you did. That he had named you because of regret. I didn't speak to him for a month, and it would have been longer if he hadn't hunted me down and made me listen."

"So why was it?" she persisted, and he could see Cal wanting to know the same thing. All they knew of Sam were material details, what he looked like, how much of a geek he was, how smart and caring… they didn't know how broken he could be as well. How hurt, and angry, and all those things that made him Sam. "Why'd he name me after her?"

"Failure," Dean told them simply. "He wanted, needed, the reminder so he would never fail that badly again. Or what he saw as failure, anyway. So he would never take any of you for granted, any of it for granted. He never wanted to lose you in the same way."

"Failure?" she demanded, obviously still confused. "Failure at what? Any of what?"

"When she died," Dean told them, getting a blank look as he remembered that week in Stanford, searching for any trace of the demon. "Oh, he was so broken up by it. I didn't get it at first, he refused to open up to me for a long time. I'm… I'm ashamed to say that after a while I thought he was being a little… well, weak. I should have known better. I should have known Sam better. He's the strongest person I know. No, he was so guilty that he had failed at saving her."

To his surprise, Jess snorted. "Now that's stupid. How could he have saved her? He didn't know it was going to happen?"

Dean frowned at her. "But he did, he had dreams about it for weeks…" He trailed off as he realized. "She didn't tell you. I can't believe Lily didn't tell you." He was shocked, stunned. A little angry. What exactly had she told these kids about their father?

"Didn't tell us what?" Cal demanded angrily, knowing his uncle was angry at his mother.

"Sam did know Jessica was going to die, though he didn't realize... He had dreams about it for weeks. Kids… your dad was psychic. Where did you think you got it from, Jess?"

Her jaw had dropped, but a glimmer of… hope, relief, had appeared in her eyes. "Dad was psychic?"

Dean shook his head. "I can't believe you didn't know."

Before either of them could answer, an explosion rocked the house, including the basement, sending dust cascading down onto them, so thick that even Dean's choked cry of frustration couldn't disperse it.

"I'm so fucking sick of that happening!"

* * *

Two chapters tonight as bonus!


	17. Chapter 17: Offence is the Best Defence

**Chapter 17: Offense is the Best Defence**

_He skidded to a halt, and it was the hardest thing he had ever forced himself to do. If the damn bitch of a thing had had its way, it would have had him scale the bloody cliff in front of him._

_He turned slowly as the three other sets of feet came to a halt behind him. Taking them in, taking in the elfin cast of their chins, their thin hair tucked neatly away, the way their clothes never wrinkled, despite having been after him for a week… they weren't human. They couldn't be. He snarled at them, something animalistic coming out as protectiveness surged within him, the key fuelling it as much as it could._

"_Your time as Guardian is done," the middle creature told him. "It has to be done."_

_His snarl deepened. "You're not taking it from me," he told them, wishing he hadn't. He wanted nothing more than for this to be over. But the key had all but possessed him, and it didn't want to leave him._

"_We gave it to you, fool," the one to the left spat, growling like it was looking down at an impertinent mongrel. "Don't think we can't take it from you and -."_

_The middle one cut him off with a raised hand. "Easy, Vaughn." The creature looked up at him. "Please, you don't know what it's doing to you."_

_For the first time since had caught wind of them, a feeling other then hope filled him. This time it was anger._

"_You mean, what you did to me," he said quietly. The creature didn't even look guilty about it as it nodded. _

"_I suppose," it answered with absolutely no trace of remorse. "We did what was best."_

_He took a step forward. "Yeah, but what did you do? What the hell did you do to me? Why did you give me this? Why!"_

_The creatures seemed upset by his sudden anger, as if it was out of line. "We did what was best," the middle one answered, confused. "We needed a guardian, and you were the best option."_

"_Did you even ask me?" he demanded silkily. "Did you ask me to carry this fucking thing? Did you! Or did you just make me take it, wipe my memory so I couldn't ever return to anything, and just let me loose?"  
_

_The creatures frowned. "We didn't take your memory," the middle one informed him. The one to the left interrupted him._

"_But we are going to take that key," Vaughn answered, and he suddenly remembered him from the day he had woken up. God, had it only been eight years._

_He gave a hollow laugh. "I wish you could," he bit out, the key wanting him to say something different. "But you can't. You shouldn't even try."_

_They looked at each other, obviously confused. "If you keep the key, it will kill you."_

_This time his laugh was bitter. "Too late. You screwed up. Whatever you did, it was the biggest fucking mistake you could have made." Oh God, it was fighting. He started shaking, trying to force it down, trying to force the key's power down. "It's too late. You try and take it from me, and I will kill you. I won't be able to stop myself."_

_Vaughn laughed. "We've lived for centuries, boy," it told him. "You're not going to kill us."_

"_Being ancient doesn't make you invincible," he answered, his voice tight with effort. "Please, you have to get out of here."_

"_We're not leaving without the key," the one on the right answered, speaking for the first time. _

_He looked up at them. "Then you better be able to back it up," he told them, before doubling over, pendant swinging against his shirt. And then, as he stood up and it came into contact with his skin, it took over…_

_He leapt on them, eyes suddenly shining bright, not with magic or power, but with murder and maliciousness. For the first time in their extensive lives, the three creatures felt actual fear for their lives. _

_They didn't have a chance._

_Used to being in control, used to being elite and safe and superior, they fell before this possessed human, died before the wrath of the key and it's basic desperation to stay with the man it forced to protect it. Unable to comprehend that something was actually a threat to them – let alone something they had created – they didn't even get the chance to fight back._

_Within minutes those three creatures were dead, and he slumped to his knees, hating the thing about his neck, hating himself, and wishing they had had the chance to kill him._

* * *

Dune had to admit, without Sam, he never would have gotten within twenty metres of the farm. The way Sam fought, and used his psychic abilities, telekinesis, and the sense of where a demon was and would be… he was, in one word, magnificent.

Not that he wasn't doing badly himself. After the failed attempt to take the key from Sam, they had all learned a lesson in their own mortality. And most had chosen to rectify it, learning what they could. That new found knowledge, as well as his own strength, speed and agility, meant Dune wasn't exactly as helpless as a newborn lamb. But Sam still outclassed him.

They were set upon as soon as they came out from the forest, the trees no longer hiding them. A demon turned and saw them, or rather saw Sam, step lightly onto the bare earth, reaching behind him for the knife. Once more the weapon flashed gold, though this time Dune saw Sam stumble, and he made a move, almost as if to catch him. But Sam righted himself in time, and the creature wrote off the strange jerking action as the man tripping over his own feet.

And then the sun dipped behind the tree line, and the demon paused as Sam was encased in light. And Dune could tell, just by watching the demon's face, that it was an awe-inspiring vision.

And then Sam lashed out, spinning low and hard, slashing the blade deep in the demon's stomach and completing the spin with a powerful roundhouse kick. The demon fell to the ground as Sam landed on both feet, perfectly balanced.

Almost instantly, more demons rushed from the house, and Dune began preparing himself. He didn't dare draw on his own magic, it took too much out of him, and he couldn't keep it going for long. No, better he used his hands and feet this time.

The creature caught up to the hunter, and wondered at the smile, sad and gentle, on his face. He didn't know that for the first time in twelve years, Sam Winchester could sense his brother.

"As soon as you can, get to them," Sam ordered, leaving no doubt that 'them' was his family. "I'll hold the demons off, you just get them out. They're in the basement," he added, forestalling Dune's question. And then he gave a vicious grin, pointing in the direction of the house. "Over there."

As he spoke the house exploded, the roof scattering in a shower of splinters and debris. It rained down on everyone, except them, with Sam protecting them with a dome of telekinesis. Dune felt his jaw drop at the massive show of power, and he turned to Sam to stare.

The man was huffing, hands on knees for the tiniest of moments. As soon as Dune laid eyes on him, he stood up, frowning and daring him to mention it. "A little show of power never hurt anyone," he defended, his voice tight.

And then there was no time for talking, as the demons fell upon them.

For a moment Dune swore they would be overrun, feeling an alarming sense of being overwhelmed. And then Sam roared, and five demons went flying at once. He heard Sam pant, just the single time, before the man was into the assault, spinning, punching, slashing.

Dune didn't waste any time, not thinking at all about what he was doing. Following Sam's orders, he made his way to the house to find the rest of the Winchesters.

* * *

Sam – and he couldn't believe how quickly he had taken to calling himself that – felt like he was on an edge, tipped between sanity and death. It was a fine line, and he struggled to stand on it as he fought the demons, trying to distract them so Dune could reach the other three… his family.

But he couldn't think about that now. No, he had to concentrate on living long enough to see his family at least one more time.

So he dived into the pack of seventeen demons, unsure he could take them all on, trying to use the power of the key while at the same time fighting it's urges to run like hell. And using its powers, and his own, he narrowed the odds down to two against twelve.

Sensing a demon behind him, he kicked out, slashing forwards at the same time with the knife at the demon rushing in from the front. His booted foot hit flesh, and something snapped back. The knife impaled the demon's throat, and Sam had to force himself to think of that gushing wound as belonging to a demon, or, he knew, he never would be able to kill them.

Ignoring the blood splattering over his face, he spun, kneeing as the demon behind fell and knocking it unconscious. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dune entering the house, leaving a trail of demons behind. Not as big as his own trail, but big enough to be helpful. One onto seven.

He ducked under a swinging machete, driving the blade in his own hand up as he regained his height. The demon coughed as the knife slid easily between two ribs, and dropped the machete, which Sam promptly caught.

Nearing exhaustion, he didn't dare infuse the second blade with demon-killing ability, but wasn't beyond trying to find out whether or not a demon could fight with a decapitated host.

He blocked an incoming punch with the stolen machete, and the blade cut deep into the demon's arm. It didn't cry out but tried to scorch him with telekinesis. He managed to block it with his own powers, just. The shockwaves of power against power knocked them all backwards a few steps, but the attempt left him severely weakened.

"Hurry up, Dune," he muttered, striding back into the fight, both weapons twirling in his hands.

He blocked a sword with the machete, felt the reverberations echo up his arm. He almost dropped the weapon, but instead brought the knife around and down, hard into the tiny spot where shoulder met neck. The host, and demon, died instantly.

And then suddenly the rest of the demons were backing off, some getting slowly to their feet, ignoring wounds, and just watching him. Waiting. Sam spun, trying to determine just what the pause was for.

He found it as he turned towards the forest, catching sight of a tall man, taller than him even, skinny but obviously powerful. His black eyes cut deep into Sam's soul, and he couldn't help but take a step back.

"Well, you're not bad, Winchester," the newcomer applauded as he entered the circle of his demons. "You just took out a few of my best soldiers. Not bad at all."

"And who are you?" Sam demanded, breathless with exhaustion. And a little fear.

The demon shook his head. "You don't need to worry about my name. You just need to hand me that key around your neck. Then your death might be painless."

He didn't need the key's forced surge of protectiveness to know there was no way in hell he was giving this demon the chain around his neck.

The demon smiled as it read his thoughts. "Come on, Sammy. Don't be like that. You don't want me to take it from you. Haven't you suffered enough for that damn piece of finery?"

His chin rose. "I'm not about to hand you the End of the World," he spat, leaning back into a defensive position, holding both blades up and gathering as much power and energy as he could from the key.

The demon cocked its head as it stared at him, watched him ready himself. Then he shook his head in disdain, before flicking his hand out almost lazily.

A solid wall of power hit him faster than he could sense, shoving him backwards through the air with a ferocity that only a demon could summon. He crashed through the roof of the barn and hit the ground hard, losing all breath but not caring as unconsciousness swamped him.

* * *

Jess got to her feet as soon as the dust settled, coughing, and running to the door. "No, no, no, no!" she cried.

Dean stood a lot slower, ignoring the blow to his pride when Cal helped him to his feet. "Thanks," he said gruffly, ignoring too, Cal's grin not so hidden under the dusty grey of his face.

"No, no, no!"

Giving another cough, Dean stumbled over to where Jess was pounding on the door. He took her by the shoulders and spun her, his eyes level with hers on the stairs.

"Jess, what's the matter?"

She shook her head and actually began to cry. "Please, we have to get out of here, we have to stop it! We can't let it happen, we have to stop it! We have to get out of here, we can't let him die, not now!"

Dean went still, his eyes the only thing that showed his blossoming fear. "What are you talking about, Jess?" he demanded breathlessly.

"It's my dream," she cried. "This is my dream, we have to go now!" And she went to tear out of his grip, as if pounding on the door would do anything. Dean kept a tight hold though, keeping her facing him.

"Jess, what happened?" he asked, not wanting to know. Not really. "Jess. Tell me what happened."

She looked up at him with a tear-streaked face, shaking. "Dune's gunna come through that door and -."

Suddenly the door slammed open, banging into Jess, who in turn fell into Dean. They both tumbled down the stairs, landed in a jumbled heap at the bottom of the stairs. And then Dune's voice echoed about the basement.

"Winchesters wanted for escape attempt."

Jess clutched onto Dean's arm, so tight it almost hurt. "Oh God, we're too late. Dad's going to die."

* * *

Hehe, sorry... See you tomorrow night!


	18. Chapter 18: The Truth of Visions

**Author's Note:** Not sure if I will be able to post tomorrow night or not, depends what time I get home from my grandparents after work... so, in advance, sorry!

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Chapter 18: The Truth of Visions

_He buried Cannon in the woods surrounding the man's house, left his wife a dazed heap, unable to believe she was free. He refused to speak to her, not even letting her out of her prison until he had finished destroying the evidence of his murder._

_It had begun to rain by the time Dean finished burying Cannon at his house, tyres ripping up the gravel in his haste to get away from that fucking place._

_He was still crying after calling Lily, and now it mixed in with the rain dripping down his face from his soaked hair. For the first time he didn't care that he was getting mud everywhere in the Impala, didn't care if he got everything wet, didn't care about the upholstery. He just needed to get away!_

_Somehow he got to Nebraska without crashing, without being pulled over, and he wasn't sure he would have noticed if he had. But he pulled up out the front of the saloon, Hunter's Rest, tyres squealing, rain pounding at the roof. Sat inside the Impala, the entire world seemed surreal, as if it just couldn't be, as if a world where Sam had completely disappeared just couldn't exist._

_He got out and begun to stumble to the door of Hunter's Rest, feeling the mud cover his shoes, loving the rain beating some reality back into him, because he needed to feel that pain, needed to feel the burn of failure, to remind him that it was all his fucking fault. To remind him that he had broken his promise._

_He fell to his knees halfway to the door and just sat there, sobbing in the mud, lost, alone, empty._

"_Dean?" Someone suddenly shouted from afar, and he heard feet racing for him. He looked up at Ellen, totally lost in despair._

"_I lost him, Ellen," he finally admitted. "He's gone, and I don't know where, or how, or by who, and I know I won't ever get him back." _

_He wiped away the tears, leaving tracks of mud across his cheeks, and looked her in the eyes as she knelt before him, hand in shock across her mouth. He shook his head, tears finally stopping as everything sunk in and depression made him heave._

"_I won't ever get him back, Ellen."_

Sam didn't stay unconscious for long. Barely had he begun drowning in the blackness that he was coughing himself awake, rolling to the side, feeling the wet stickiness on his back and duly ignoring it. He could hear feet approaching, and those feet belonged to demons, whether or not they were actually human. He needed to get up, needed to fight back, because this had suddenly just turned from a rescue mission to simple self-defence. This demon was going to kill him, he had to get up.

In the end, the demon got him up, picking him with its powers and throwing him back into the wall, thankfully with nowhere near as much strength as he had thrown him through the roof the barn.

Dropping to the floor, he managed to land on his feet, though it was a near thing. His knees shook, his legs quivered, and his arms brought up his fists, wishing he had managed to hold onto his blades. He could see them, safe in the middle of the barn, lying uselessly.

The demons entered the barn as he landed, and he snarled at them, taking a step forward. "Haven't got a proper fight in you, demon?" he demanded, hiding the pain in his back. He pulled the blades to him with his own abilities, twirling them and wishing the knife had kept its demon slaying magic. It took so much out of him.

It chuckled at him, coming to a pause, six demons at its back, a few metres beyond the entrance. Sam took another step forward, screwing up his nose as he suddenly realized how much the barn stunk, trying not to see the animal corpses strewn about, dead from starvation and thirst, having been left to die when their owners were taken over by demons.

"You want me to fight you?" it asked incredulously. Sam shrugged.

"Bring it on, bitch!" he snapped, trying to buy time. Maybe if Dune got his family out he could then come get him out alive. The creature had abilities far beyond his own, surely it could save him. Because he had no hope, and they both knew it.

The demon stepped forward though, intent on granting Sam his wish. It pulled out two swords, short but still very sharp. Deadly for him. Now he had to even the odds.

Even the odds? Ha!

But he drew on the power of the key and the both blades flashed an awesome gold, hiding his near-fall from the demons.

And hiding the demon's attack from him.

The light died down, and he had to bring the both blades up in a cross to block one bone-crunching blow that had been aimed to cleave his head right down the middle. But he had left his side open, and the second sword came swinging at him.

He jumped back, but not far enough. The blade sliced a shallow cut through his side, and he stumbled backwards, doubled over, trying not to grab the wound and cover his grip in blood.

He stood up straight, but the demon was allowing him no quarter, storming in at a furious walk, swinging quickly, almost too quickly for him to counter. But he managed, just, though the attempt left his arms almost dead.

It was trying to wear him out, he knew, trying to leave him swaying on his feet, or knees, so it could just take his life with a single, simple stroke. He refused to give in. It wasn't who he was, and besides, the key would never let him. It would make him fight and fight and fight until he was dead from exhaustion or blood loss, whichever came first.

And then a blade cut into his arm and he was forced to drop the machete. He was just glad it wasn't the knife, it had stuck with him throughout all these years. And it wasn't about to fail him now.

The single recipient of the key's power, the blade flashed gold again of its own will. The demon, very obviously about to impart a killing blow, cried out as the flash of pure light drove him backwards.

Sam took the opportunity, racing forward and slashing hard. His thrust met resistance, and the demon cried out. But it didn't die, just slammed upwards, hard, with the hilt of the sword.

He missed it, throwing his head to the side, and the hilt just scraped his ear. And then the demon changed the rules, pulling on its natural abilities, and throwing Sam backwards.

He hit the wall hard again, and fell, this time completely to the ground. And there he stayed, hand tight around the knife, panting, bleeding, and all the while the demon came closer, chuckling at his weakness.

"Poor little human," it snarled, obviously not sympathetic. "You should have laid down earlier. Would have saved all this unnecessary violence. Would have saved me doing… this…"

And it flung him back against the wall again, keeping him pinned there, arms outflung, three or four feet off the floor. And then it… it ripped into him.

He screamed as his every inch of him began to tear from the inside out, and blood began dripping down to land in a dark puddle on the floor.

"DAD!"

A girl screamed it, and everyone's head snapped around. Sam looked through hazy eyes at the four standing, watching behind the demons, horrified by what they were witnessing. And as the demon laughed with pure amusement, as Sam looked into his brother's eyes and for the first time acknowledged him as a brother. Memories flashed through him, of a night just as dark, in a shack just as rundown, but with a different demon, his own brother pinned against the wall, seeping blood from his chest.

And then, as he came crashing back to reality, blown away by having an actual memory of before that day twelve years ago, he witnessed the demons closing in on his family.

"NO!" he screamed, ripping one arm free of its invisibly restraints. The lead demon spun, astonished, just in time to be hit by a wave of golden telekinetic energy only partially fuelled by the key around Sam's neck.

The demon was knocked off its feet, and it rolled backwards, like it was being blown by a gale-force wind. Only, nothing else moved, nothing except Sam as he landed cat-like on the ground, blood still weeping from his skin. He looked a red monster, eyes glinting with his power, body taut and furious, stubbornly ignoring his injuries.

He watched as the demon got to its feet, slowly, obviously hurting after the attack. But it growled and rounded on Sam nonetheless, gathering its strength.

Sam leaned back, hunching slightly, prepared. The world seemed to move in slow motion as the demon summoned its power and hurled it at the human before it.

For the first time ever, Sam witnessed the telekinesis as, not invisible, but a shimmering wall of blue, and he responded similarly with his own wall of gold. The two crashed in the centre of the barn, knocking everyone else, human and demon and creature off their feet. The two combatants, one driven by destruction, the other powered by alien ability, remained standing, hate equal in their eyes, harvesting what they could from their dwindling stocks of power. And then, almost as one, they lashed out at each other once more.

Again the two powers met, keeping everyone on the ground, though this time the shockwaves were made of colour, every colour of the rainbow, and more besides, colours beyond human capability to see and name. Sam sagged as the lights and colours disappeared, rapidly tiring.

The demon though, seemed a vast lake of power, and, ruthless, it lashed out once more with that shimmering, yet still solid wall of power.

It was all Sam could do to block it, and this time no shockwave followed, and the others slowly got to their feet, watching, unable to turn away, or even intervene as the demon walked slowly towards Sam, this time sending a ball of telekinesis at the human, though only Sam could physically see it.

He managed to block it, just, but the effort drove him to his knees, and the demon cackled victoriously. The world was still in slow motion, but this time it was with that sense of finality, the knowledge that this blow will be the last, and Sam could only look up as the demon stopped a mere five feet from him, conjured a ball of energy and threw it down upon him.

He couldn't even raise a hand to stop it, though he tried to summon one last defensive wall. The energy hit him, and he screamed as he absorbed it, never having enough time to shove that golden wall from his body. It didn't matter. Instead of meeting in the air, those blue and gold torrents of power met inside him, as explosive as if they had met in the middle of the barn. The eruption blew everyone off their feet once more, sent the demon sprawling back with a yelp. Beyond exhausted now, Sam slumped to the ground, unconscious, near dead.

A moment of silence followed, a silence filled with awe, disbelief, fear and horror. Dune was the first to recover.

He grabbed a hold of Jess' hand, and pulled her to her feet, grabbing at his magic as he did. They only had one chance to get out of here, to save Sam's life.

"Come on, Winchester, move your ass!" he shouted, and suddenly everyone was moving, him pulling Jess towards Sam, Dean and Cal following, stunned and pale. The demons, some towards them, others towards the unconscious Sam, the lead demon still struggling to its feet. Dune, the magic of his people filling him now, kept the way clear, kept the demons clear of Sam, sliding onto his side beside Sam and reaching out to find a good hold on the human. It wasn't easy. Sam was soaked in his own blood, breathing shallowly, and Dune heard Jess give a small sob as she looked down on her nearly dead father.

"Everyone grab onto someone else," Dune ordered, finally taking Sam's shoulder in a gentle hold. And then, hoping they trusted him, at least for the moment, drew deep on that well inside of him. Gold light encased them all, shining brightly, and there was a sense of motion. And then Jess screamed, her brother with her, and even Dean was struggling, as they made the same journey Sam had made twelve years ago, away from the barn, away from the demons, and hopefully towards life for them all.

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Can you tell I was running out of ideas for flashbacks right about now?


	19. Chapter 19: Some Other Way

**Author's Note:** If it's any consolation, grandparentals was... well, grandparental. Sorry I couldn't get this to you last night.

So, who wants to learn a bit more about Dune?

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Chapter 19: Some Other Way

_Dune angrily kicked a pot lying deserted on the floor, far from the kitchens, bloodstained, tainted. He cursed the demons in a dozen languages, some of them not from this time._

_His father looked around, sending a raised eyebrow in his son's direction, but said nothing. The elder was feeling the frustration as well, though at his respectable age, kicking and cussing were beyond him._

_Then three of their people came around into the chamber, arms crossed and somewhat at ease and peace. None of them found it strange. They were superior, and needed to show that superiority, no matter how much they might be feeling frustrated. And, over the centuries, it had developed into a distant manner, natural and inhuman. But they weren't human._

"_Casualties?" his father asked immediately. The three snapped to attention. _

"_Fifty-four dead," the middle one answered. "Eight elders, forty-six soldiers. Another nine injured. Oh, and the humans lost another nineteen."_

_Dune's father nodded, and then looked around. They all looked around, to the human boy lying, drained of blood, on his side in the corner of the room, where he had taken shelter against the storm of demons. It hadn't done him any good. The demons had found him, killed him without any hesitation, and had howled with anger when they realized they had come too soon._

"_But it was close, this time," the middle creature muttered loud enough for them all to hear, as if reading Dune's father's thoughts. "Evlyn, she was so close to handing it over."_

"_Then we must be thankful she didn't," the one to the left answered with some disgust in his voice. "The boy was supposed to be a great hunter, a son of great hunters. He would never have been able to carry the key. We never should have even chosen him. I mean, even his father didn't make it past his second demon, and the man is legendary."_

_Dune's father looked over at the creature with an impassive face. "Easy, Jako," he told the creature. "The boy passed the test; he was repelled by the thought of so much power. And I do believe we're getting desperate." Again, it was said with no emotion behind it, as if the fate of their race did not hang on them finding another to carry the key, at least for a time._

"_So what now?" the middle creature asked, and Dune looked over to his father, wondering that he had been allowed to stay for this at all, considering he was still young. His father gave a small shrug._

"_Now, we hide, just for a time. Those demons are still out there, and they know we are weakened. We need to recuperate. We must use the time to find another bearer. Soon, too. Its corruption is spreading quickly. Soon, no more children will be born at all, and our deaths are coming earlier. Long-lived we may be, immortal we are not. We need to get it away from our people, away from our home."_

_And then, having no more to say in his emotionless tone, Dune's father led the way from the lord's manor, followed by the three and his son, out into the streets of London, the hustle and bustle of 1813 comforting and relaxing._

* * *

They landed in a heap on the other side of the golden wall, the only way in or out of this long-abandoned place. As soon as they hit the smooth, black floor, Dune collapsed, exhausted, panting.

Dean took less time to recover, staring wide-eyed at the kid (so far as he knew) lying on the floor as he got to his feet. "What the hell did you do?" he asked, voice showing signs of the strain put on his body to make it here.

"I brought us somewhere safe," Dune told him, too tired to even slam some anger into it. He got into a sitting position. "We need to help Sam."

As if he had forgotten his little brother, Dean jumped, and the kids, pale and shaking, moved out of the way. It left a small circle around Sam, who was still unconscious, bloody, and barely breathing.

"Oh God, Sammy," Dean cried as he dropped to his knees beside the younger man. "What happened to him?" he demanded of Dune, as if the kid would know all the answers.

Dune hid a wry grin at that. "The demons tried to kill him. Would have too, if we hadn't shown up. He remembered you. At least a sense of you."

Dean looked up at Dune, who shrugged. "Getting his memory back isn't going to be that easy," he warned them. "Especially if you don't get him patched up."

Dean jumped again, but reacted quickly, taking a gentle hold on Sam and lifting him up. Sam's head lolled, but he stayed unconscious, a fact which slightly disturbed Dune. The key should have been yelling at him to wake up. Unless it knew exactly who Dean was. But he stood as well, and took the lead, glad when Jess offered him some support. He didn't think he would have been able to make it, otherwise.

"Follow me," he ordered a little breathlessly, and they walked, stumbled and staggered their way down the dim corridor. Dean was on the verge of demanding they go faster – he could feel Sam slipping in his arms, in more ways than one – but soon realized none of them could go any faster, not even himself.

"What is this place?" he asked after a moment, awe in his voice. Signs of abandonment were clear, as was the fact this place had been abandoned quickly. Chairs overturned, clothes strewn about, no one had taken the time to clean up, and be neat about the departure.

"It used to be a sanctuary," Dune answered, his voice sad. He nodded at a spot on the wall. "And then the demons attacked it, killed nearly everyone here. Knowing they would come back, we fled."

As he passed the spot Dune had motioned at, Dean shivered as claw marks ran down the wall, silver and bright, showing the stone underneath. And, over the top, blood.

"Why'd they attack?" Cal asked quietly. Dune didn't answer for a moment.

"There was something here they wanted." And they knew they weren't going to get any further details from him, not yet. Instead, he changed the subject. "In here," he told them, pointing, and Jess helped him through the arched doorway.

Dune motioned at a stone table, and Dean finally found enough urgency to move faster, laying his brother down gently on the cold surface. Dune came to stand beside him, shadows under his eyes, so obviously exhausted. But he called out, took charge.

"Cal, in the corner there should be a bucket, and a tap. Fill it with water and bring it over here." He looked up at Dean, who was staring down at him. "We need to get that jacket off of him, Dean."

The hunter complied, hurrying against the sound of rushing water. He did it as gently as he could, but felt his heart skip a few beats when Sam didn't make a sound. Dune bit his lip as well, obviously worried.

"This isn't good," he muttered, pushing Dean out of the way. The hunter let him; he didn't know enough about first aid to be of any use.

With strength he wasn't sure he still had, Dune tore at Sam's blood-soaked shirt, ripping it away before taking a few steps back at the sight of the red-smeared chest.

"Oh, God," Jess cried from where she had stopped, afraid to get too close, and in the corner, the bucket dropped.

Dean felt his knees go weak, and he clutched onto the table for support, staring down at his dying brother, unable to tear his eyes away. How could he still be alive, how could he be breathing when there was so much blood? How could he not be dead?

"No, no, no, Sammy, I've lost you once, I'm not losing you again," he promised, shaking his head. "I'm not losing you again." His head snapped up to look at Dune. "Hurry up!"

Dune came forward once more, sickened by the sight. There was blood everywhere, still warm, still dripping. It was a miracle he was still alive, and no wonder that he was unconscious. He shifted his gaze to the key and felt himself snarling. No, no wonder that he was still alive. That thing would be keeping him breathing, pumping what blood was still there, making him live the injuries. He took the refreshed bucket from Cal, and dumped it over Sam, knowing time, rather than grace, was of the essence.

It washed the blood away quickly, but Sam didn't even move, didn't flinch at the cold, just like Dune didn't flinch as Dean stared up at him.

"Careful, Dune," he whispered threateningly. Dune ignored him, just took off his own shirt and placed it on the wound in Sam's side, looking about at the same time for something that could act as a makeshift bandage for the wound on Sam's back.

Jess seemed to know what he was looking for and handed him Dean's shirt that she had managed to hold onto. "Here," she offered hoarsely, and he nodded his thanks as he stuffed it under Sam.

"Cal, in one of the chests, there should be a first aid kit. We need to stitch these wounds, else he's just going to keep on bleeding." Cal spun to look, and Dean moved closer to his little brother, looking over him studying him, reminding his memory of every little detail.

He wasn't well. Discounting the bleeding, and the unconsciousness, Sam was nowhere near healthy. Far too skinny, malnourished, sunken eyes, oily hair, scars littering his torso. Dean shook his head as he scanned his little brother, finding more and more damage. And that was only on the surface. He didn't want to know about anything… deeper.

And then he spotted the necklace. Or rather, the pendant. Shiny, the only thing free of blood; too free, unnaturally free. It was strange, an odd shape, far too feminine for Sam's likes, and it suddenly hit him that _this_ was what Sam had been protecting for the past twelve years.

"Everything that's happened is all because of this?" he asked Dune softly, reaching out to touch the pendant as the younger man – or so he thought – reached around to grab the kit from Cal.

It all happened at once. As if in slow motion, Dune turned back around, eyes going wide, hand snapping out to grab Dean's. "No, Dean, don't!"

But Sam moved faster.

Yanked awake, he gave a wordless roar, wrenching delirious eyes open, panicked and scared, not recognozing any of them. His hand didn't snap out: it was by his side one moment, latching onto Dean's the next, seemingly moving through time. The strength in his grip shocked Dean, who went to back away, but couldn't. Sam held him still, panting, obviously hurting, but inching towards insanity with his need to protect the key coupled with blood loss and pain.

"Easy, Sam," Dune soothed, or tried. Sam looked up at him slowly, eyes going wider, the grip beginning to hurt like hell.

"Don't touch me," he spat at Dune, before turning to look at Dean. "None of you touch me!"

He lashed out, and the two men went flying. Dean crashed into a wall, his head bouncing hard, before falling to the floor in a heap. He had to wait for his head to stop spinning before he could even lift it. And in that time, Jess had already moved.

She leapt to her father's side, ripping out of Cal's grip. She took a strong hold on Sam's arm, clasping his wrist so he could do the same with hers, and making him look into her face.

"Easy, Dad," she soothed, tears evident though Dean couldn't see her face. "Please, calm down, they're only trying to help."

Her words worked, and Sam calmed down, his eyes feverish, his face damp with sweat. But he regained some of his calm, and he laid back, groaning in pain, twisting his head as if that would ease it.

"Oh, God," he muttered, banging his head down, traces of nausea and panic in the way he moved, the way his face began to pale. Dean got to his feet at the same time as Dune did, but while the kid approached the table, Dean almost didn't dare. He stayed where he was, sharing a look with Cal. This moment had to belong to Jess, and they both knew it.

Sam didn't even look at Dune as the man neared, just stared into his daughter's eyes, uncaring as Dune prepared everything. No, completely ignoring the man about to save his life, he reached out a shaking, bloodstained hand to his daughter.

"Oh, Jess," he whispered, clearly a man unsure whether or not he had long to live. "I'm sorry."

Dean flinched as Sam repeated their mother's ghostly last words, though he sure it was for a completely different reason.

"Easy, Dad," Jess repeated, leaning into his hand, not giving a rat's ass about the crimson palm print left on her cheek. "Just take it easy. Dune can help you."

Sam gave a hacking laugh, moving about and making them all pause. "Oh, I know he can." And none thought to ask what he meant right at that moment, sharing knowing, uncomfortable looks, acknowledging that all too soon secrets would be divulged. But for now…

"Just relax, Sam," Dune suggested as he leaned over the man. "Try and sleep."

Again, that hacking cough. "I can't sleep, not now, _Dune_. You should know, it's not letting my guard down now."

For a wonder, Dune flinched, and Dean frowned at him, desperately wanting to know why those glances between his brother and the younger man were so significant. Wanting to know, now, why Dune was actually looking guilty, when Dean had never seen him look anything but arrogant before. Sure, there had been underlying emotions, never strong enough to pass through the façade he must have been putting on. But now that arrogance was quickly fading into unknown waters.

He put it from his mind for now, staring down at the group around the table, safe at this small distance. As Dune bent over to start, and Sam tensed from anticipation, Jess, whether acting from training or instinct, fell to her knees beside her father, taking his gaze away from the needle piercing his body in order to stop the blood flow. She stared at him, giving him exactly what he needed at that moment in time, stroking his hair and gripping his forearm hard. Giving him something to hold onto.

And for the first time in twelve years, Sam Winchester felt at home.

Dune winced, though never physically, with every new hole the needle made, wishing he had the ability to heal. But no, his kind could screw with people's minds, just not their bodies.

For a long time, as he had watched Sam fight, as he had rescued Dean, Jess and Cal, as he had transported them all here, nearly killing himself in the process… as he began to patch up Sam and stop him from dying, he had wondered just what the hell he was doing. Any moment from the time he had met Sam above that farm had been the perfect time to do what he had come to Deakin Hill to do, the perfect time to steal back that key and save the world from complete annihilation.

And he hadn't.

No, instead, he had helped Sam through every trial since meeting him, had helped out Dean before that, had done everything but take back that damn key… and for what? A couple of heart broken kids, and an alien, terrifying sense of burgeoning guilt.

He wasn't stupid, and he had been around a long time. He knew he had changed. He was different to the rest of his now dead race. Where they had been elite and exclusive, where they had been aloof and distant, now all he really, really wanted to do was help the Winchester's get through this in just about one piece. At least as many pieces as they had started this whole journey in. He wasn't dumb; even for humans, this family of hunters had baggage.

He wasn't an idiot, just a little blind when it came to things he didn't want to see. But he had finally realized that, no matter what, there was no way he was taking that key from Sam. There was no way he was letting the Winchesters die a messy, bloody death at demon hands.

No, there had to be some other way to stop the End of the World.

* * *

See, he's not all bad, really. Honest!


	20. Chapter 20: Twenty Questions

**Author's Note:** Dove moment! Big d'n'm! About time some more juice was spilled, methinks!

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Chapter 20: Twenty Questions

_The night was dark and wet and windy, and the river surged below, angry and fearsome, creeping steadily up its boundaries, raging to be free._

_He leaned heavily on the iron railing that separated road from air. His heart thudded, his mind ached, and his hand quivered where it was clenched white around the key._

_His hair and clothes were soaked, and he shivered with the cold. And the sobs, and the heaving, and the intense concentration he needed to keep himself exactly where he was, sagged against the edge, hand shaking atop the rail. _

_He couldn't do it anymore. Surely four years of his life was enough, it had to be. Surely he couldn't be demanded of more. He had no more to give, he wanted to find out exactly who he was, find his family, just _live.

_But his knees gave way, and his hand slipped from the railing, the power of the key almost too much for him. It wanted to crush him, he could feel its fury, its anger; it wanted to punish him for even thinking about abandoning it. _

_But he couldn't do it anymore, and this thought accompanied a wrenched sob as he climbed back onto the rail, not trusting his legs to hold his weight, sure they would walk him away, whatever he wanted._

_He wanted it to be over. He couldn't take this life anymore. A life on the run was awful, and terrible, and incredibly lonely. He struggled to remember the last time he talked to an actual, normal human being, and didn't think he had in that four years he called his life._

_He was determined, and the key hadn't sunk far enough into him to alter his thoughts and feelings. Not yet. And he wasn't going to let that happen._

_It was over. He wasn't going to do this anymore. He refused to. He wasn't going to do… it… anymore!_

_With a scream he flung his hand open and the key dropped like a stone into the raging river below._

_Instantly his arms and legs cramped up, and he screamed again, dropping to the ground in a writhing heap, curling in on himself, agony shooting through him. With the rain pelting down on him, the wind carrying his screams away, a pile of pain on the bridge, he had never felt more alone or horrified, or despairing._

_He couldn't believe the key's influence spread so far. He could all but feel it, sinking to the bottom of the river to settle like a dead weight on the sediment below, the current not even touching it._

_No, this couldn't be happening. He had let it go, he wanted to be free. Free, dammit, free!_

"_NO!" he screamed, even as he defied the pain, and his own goddamn free will, and leapt the railing, diving into the river headfirst. _

_He had taken a huge, deep breath, but it was almost knocked out of him instantly as he speared into the water, its power and icy cold hitting him like a brick wall. Almost instantly he had to fight the current as it threatened to sweep him to whatever black corners were at the end of its kingdom. _

_He screwed up his courage, unable to see, physically, anyway. The key though, it pulled at him, vicious and gleeful as he swum ever deeper into the night depths, lungs pounding, instincts screaming at him, already, to take a breath. He almost did. Almost took that deadly breath, just to let it end. But the key had him now, and though in these early stages, it couldn't stop him from thinking of suicide – though obviously it could do the opposite – it could stop him from inhaling the water and letting it cascade into his lungs. _

_He dove deeper yet, wondering where the hell the bottom was, and how the hell he was going to get back to the surface. He needed to breath, oh God his lungs were on fire, his heart beating hard in his chest as it was denied the precious air it needed. His arms and legs began to numb, his chest aching, matching the lingering pain in his head. _

_He struck out again, and suddenly he could feel it, right beside his fist. He almost heaved with relief, jerking in the water, lungs screaming, heart screaming, mind screaming. NO!_

_He grabbed the chain and turned in the water, kicking out with his feet, desperate to reach the surface, no idea how deep he was, because the night was as black as his surroundings. He kicked out, reaching for that limitless above._

_Ruthless, the key became a massive weight in his hand, dragging him deeper down and sending bubbles up above his head. Incredibly close to panic now, probably somewhere over the line in fact, he kicked again, desperate for air, oh sweet, sweet air, he needed it so badly._

_LET ME UP!_

_He screamed it in his mind, at the key, and maliciously it pulled him even further down, down, he couldn't see, oh God he needed air, air, AIR!_

_But the key refused, dragging his hand down, down, down. _

_And then its weight lessened in his hand, and, a spark of realization, or perhaps hope, lit inside of him. Moving his deadened arms, tired, oh so tired, AIR, he pulled against the weight of the water and let the key sink around his neck._

_Almost instantly the key was weightless, floating around his chest like the useless lump of metal it should have been. He felt its influence disappear at the same time, though not completely, never completely. It rested just as heavily in his mind as it had in the water not moments before. _

_But he still had to pull out every ounce of determination to stop himself from breathing, no longer aided by the key. _

_He kicked again, striking the water with his arms, and he shot forwards, towards the surface, towards air, and towards another eight years of slavery to an object._

_His lungs were beyond fire now, icy and cruel, labouring in his chest, until he thought his chest would explode. He yearned for the surface, arms and legs moving separate of any human or alien desire, just needing that precious life supply, moving towards panic and immobility as they were denied what they so wanted. He kicked out, struck the water, and then jerked, twisting, keeping his mouth glued shut, feeling like his lungs were shrivelling up even as the surface inched nearer, nearer._

_The current pounded at him, his lungs shrieked with a force beyond even supernatural reckoning, making him twist – kick – AIR! – strike – OH GOD!_

_He wasn't going to make it, and the desperation hit harder, until he was so – tired, kick out, please AIR, AIR, AIR! He was panicking and jerking and still the surface refused to come any closer, he could see it, oh please, AIR, strike, once more, his arms like lead, so tired, exhausted, he was so exhausted, how could it just end like this, AIR! So tired, weary, he didn't want to do this anymore, but the AIR was just feet away, he could see it, could feel the rain pounding on the surface, AIR, just there, PLEASE AIR!_

_But the surface was just a foot too far away, and before he could help himself, he inhaled, submitting to his lungs plea for air, even if there was no air about. He inhaled, and water pummelled in, as vicious and malicious as the key had been in… _

_His thoughts trailed off… darkness, surface… no… matter… drifting in a painless land… darkness…_

Dean relished the opportunity to change, to shower, to eat something. It had been a long couple of days, and even though time _here,_ wherever here was, was somewhat a fluid thing, Dune had informed them that it was just after dawn. Which meant it had been over twenty-four hours since he had eaten, slept properly, been clean. It had been a twenty-four hours full of running, and fighting, and bleeding, and he was glad to scrape the dry blood off of his skin.

He had left Sam relaxing in a different room to the one where Dune had fixed him up. He was in bed, trying to get to sleep, or so Dean hoped. Dune had all but shoved him out, though the kid hadn't stayed either. He wanted to leave Sam to himself, just for a time. Dean wasn't sure that was the best thing, but the temptation of cleanliness and food was too strong.

He dried himself off, trying to ignore the destroyed chair in the corner of the room. The place they were in was surprisingly well stocked, despite the devastation everywhere, and Dune had found him some clean clothes that actually fit, as well as food that was actually edible. The clothes were a bit different to what he would usually wear – they appeared to be from a different century – but they were clean, and dry, and in one piece, and once he had a full stomach, he didn't care.

He dressed quickly. It had been half an hour since Dune had shoved him out of that room, and he desperately wanted to get back to his brother. That didn't stop the duties of being an uncle though, and he stopped in by the room Dune had shown Jess and Cal to, a little surprised to see them asleep. But it had been a very, very long day. It didn't occur to him that Dune might have given them something to aid their weariness and send them to sleep sooner than expected.

He walked down the dim corridor, shivering with the strange blue tinge the black stone gave the light. It was an odd place, this… here-ever. He wasn't sure it was even in the same reality as the rest of the world, but he refused to linger on that, because it led to uncomfortable questions that he didn't want to ask just yet. For now, he just wanted to sit with Sam, and get to know his brother once more. He smiled with relief as he opened the door to the room he had left Sam in.

That relief turned to panic, and he scanned anxiously, searching every corner and niche for Sam. But he just wasn't there. The sheets on the bed hadn't even been creased. The only sign that someone had been there were the bloody bandages left abandoned on the floor.

"Oh, no," he muttered, immediately fearing the worst. The worst being that Sam had left without telling any of them. He backed out of the room, refusing to panic. He wouldn't panic, he wouldn't panic. He wouldn't.

He was only five feet from the doorway when he began to run.

He hadn't had any idea how huge the complex was though. He had seen a few rooms, close together, and the wall of golden light they had passed through hadn't exactly been a long way from the room where Dune had helped Sam. But within moments he was lost.

He didn't slow down though, and decided to take random corners, hoping that luck would bring him to Sam, or the exit. He hoped he would catch up to Sam before his brother left the here-ever, but he didn't know how soon the younger man had left his room. Knowing Sam, it would have been instantly. Though to be hopeful, he didn't know Sam.

Suddenly he skidded to a halt, coming to a stop in the arched doorway of a circular room, maybe forty feet across, a huge domed ceiling that darkened into shadow, and an oval hole dropping into the floor, just dropping, giving off a smell of depth, and surrounded by a foot high ledge.

And Sam was standing on that ledge.

Dean tried not to make any sudden noises as he walked in, cautious and wondering exactly what frame of mind Sam was in.

"Dean, right?" Sam suddenly asked, never turning around, his feet never shifting from the ledge. The older man nodded.

"That's right. Dean Winchester. I'm your brother."

Sam put a hand to his chest, and Dean realized he was fondling the key. Key to what, he still had no clue, but hopefully those questions would be answered soon. He took a few steps forward.

"I didn't know I had a brother," Sam muttered after a moment. "Or kids. How can someone forget that? How could I forget my son and daughter?"

Dean took another few steps. "Think you might be a bit close to the edge there, Sam?" he asked tentatively.

For the first time Sam looked around, confused. "What?" he looked back down, and he seemed to catch on, jumping back from the hole. "Oh. Don't worry, I'm not suicidal." He gave a bitter laugh and turned to Dean, flicking at the pendant on his chest. "This thing would never let me even think about it."

He walked forward, obviously needing to ask his own questions, but Dean couldn't help himself. He got there first.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Sam smiled sadly, but didn't answer. Dean took another step forward, until he could almost have reached out and touched his little brother.

"Sam, what happened to you?" he asked breathlessly, asking the question he had needed answered for the past twelve years.

Sam shook his head and backed away to sit down on the ledge. Dean followed slowly, still wary of making any sudden movements, as if Sam would shy, and run, or suddenly disappear like he had twelve years ago if Dean startled him enough. He very nearly sat down next to Sam, until he got a good look at the hole. And it wasn't a hole, more like a bottomless pit, and he shivered, taking an involuntary step back. Sam had always had a better head for heights, but Dean still wondered what Sam had been thinking while standing at the lisp of what could only be described as infinity.

Sam watched him with a half smirk, but when Dean turned to face him, he lost his humour and cast his face down.

"I don't know," he mumbled after a moment. "I don't really know what happened to me. I don't know how to explain it, how to explain why, or how, or any of the questions you probably want to know. Partly because I still don't know you," he admitted, looking Dean in the face. "And partly because I still don't know the answers myself."

Gathering his courage and not looking down that pit, Dean sat down, though he managed to take the very edge. He was just glad the ledge was reasonably wide.

"Okay then," he said, glancing at Sam. "How about we play twenty questions? I can tell you about who you are, and who I am… and you can try and explain to me just what happened. I need to know, Sam. I really do."

Sam twitched an eyebrow at him. "I'm thinking that's going to take more than twenty questions," he told Dean, some of the man from twelve years ago shining through. It was so hard to behold that the older man had to look away.

"Yeah, you're right," he agreed. "But it's a start."

Sam nodded, looking down at his hands. "Fine. You start."

Dean nodded. "What's the earliest thing you remember?" he asked gently. Sam shrugged.

"I woke up, and all I could remember was golden light. I was in some bathroom I didn't recognise, and I was in the shower, and I had this on." He motioned at the key. "All I knew was that I had to protect it. People were outside the door, as if they were guarding me, and they were talking about me, how they had been doing something to me, and they had to finish it. And then the room outside exploded. Protectiveness took over, and I jumped out the window. Out of a second story window." He chuckled. "I survived, obviously, and began running. I haven't stopped since. Who am I?" he added on immediately, cutting off Dean as he began to ask another question.

Instead, the older hunter gave a short laugh. "You couldn't pick a harder question, Sam," he told his brother. He shook his head and looked down as well. "I can tell you who you are in relation to other people. You're Sam Winchester. Son of John and Mary Winchester. Both long gone," he added gently. "You're my brother, father to Jessica and Caleb, the two kids with me. Not an uncle yourself… you're forty-one years old, and I've missed you for the past twelve years. Missed you so much it hurts every second." And he couldn't help the fact that his voice broke over that sentence. He looked up, but never once looked at Sam. "As to who you are, who you really are…" he shrugged. "You're a little brother I would do anything for. A great father. The most honest liar I've ever met. Caring, empathetic, a thinker. Incredibly smart. You were almost a lawyer. You're Sammy."

Sam looked away, obviously wishing none of this had ever happened to him. "And their mother?" he asked, anything to get away from the heartache.

Dean went still. "Thought it was my turn to ask a question," he avoided, glancing up. God, why was this so hard?

Sam stared at him for a moment before shrugging. "Sure," he agreed. "Ask away."

"Before… you said the key, that pendant, it wouldn't let you think about suicide. And you said, protectiveness took over. And when Dune was trying to fix you up, I went to touch the key, and you woke up. You woke up, when you should have been dead." Dean shook his head. "You speak, and act, as though that thing is alive, or something."

"Is there a question somewhere in there?" Sam asked, a little harsh, and Dean knew they had entered dangerous waters. He went on ruthlessly.

"What is it?" he demanded. "What does it do to you?"

"And now that's two questions." He got up and started to pace, rubbing a hand through his hair.

Dean stood too, determined. "Sam. What does it do to you?"

"It enslaves me!" he spat, spinning to face Dean. "All right? It turns on its mojo, and I can't fight it. It takes over, possesses me, and I can't stop until it lets me go. I could be running for my life for days, because of this fucking thing! The demons can almost smell its power, or the power it leads to, and they come right to it, because they can't fucking help themselves. I've had to fight, and kill and run every single fucking day for the past twelve fucking years, because of this damn piece of metal around my neck! I get no self control, no will, nothing!"

And now he was screaming, his own frustration, and the loss of twelve years of his life too much to bear anymore, when his family was so close and yet so far. How the hell could he make them understand? "You want to know what it does to me, _brother_? It runs me into the ground and then makes me eat dirt as I run some more. It makes me abandon people I know have answers just because it can feel the demons getting near! It makes me kill innocent people just because they have as little self-control as I do, every fight only hurting two fucking pawns in a game between two higher powers that won't let up!"

Dean had gone pale, his jaw wide. "Why didn't you… I don't know, ditch it? Throw it away and walk off? Just leave it somewhere, anywhere and go and find your answers?"

He gave a laugh. "Oh, believe me, I tried. And it made me drown until I had the fucking thing about my neck once more. No, it has its claws so far into me, I don't know if it'll ever let me go." He shook his head, a bitter snarl on his face, tears coming now. "I'm a slave, Dean," he muttered. "A fucking slave to something that looks like a lump of metal on my chest. A lump of metal that has come so close to stopping my heart just because the loudness of its beat would draw a demon right to me."

Dean had to sit down again, all but collapsing onto the ledge. "Jesus Christ," he muttered. Sam shrugged, wiping at his face.

"It's not evil," he told Dean, his voice semi-calm. "But it's ruthless, and it's mean, and it doesn't care who gets caught in the crossfire. I've been running and hiding, going without food or sleep for days, every single moment for the past twelve years, driven by some alien key to some great well of power. And you know they best bit? I don't even know why."

"I do," Dune's voice suddenly called from the shadows, and Dean stood up once more in shock, angry that Dune had been listening in at all. This was for him and Sam, alone, so finally, finally, they could be brothers again.

But that anger fled as soon as Dune stepped out of the shadows, and Dean caught sight of the unshed tears, the face made more human with guilt and shame. For the first time since he had met the kid, Dune looked… normal. He all but ignored Dean though, staring at Sam and shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, blinking back those tears. "I'm so sorry."

Dean's heart began pounding. "What are you sorry about?" he demanded, sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

Sam and Dune never broke eye contact, but a single tear escaped down the kid's face. And then Sam answered, his voice wavering with fury, and relief, and a burning desire to have all his questions satisfied then and there.

"Because he's one of the one's who gave me this fucking responsibility."

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Dum dum da! Guess it's not so good for Dune that Sam's getting his memory back, huh?

Happy New Years!


	21. Chapter 21: Changes

**Author's Note:** Still hanging in there? Awesome! Well, we're getting to the sticky end of things now people, only a few more chapters to go!

Oh, and if you haven't seen season 3, or the end of season 2 even... I hope you like spoilers.

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Chapter 21: Change

_Dune leaned back and pushed away from the windowsill, tense and frustrated. He turned to Vaughn, who was bleeding from above his right eye, and limping, and he wished he wasn't in this position. But there was no one else._

_They had been decimated. Over half their population during the attack in their own home. And then another twenty in the attack on this safe house. Only Vaughn had survived. And Winchester of course. Or so they hoped. _

_He had disappeared, and that was half the frustration Dune felt. They knew he had left willingly, and that was good. But he had jumped out of a second story window, and that was bad. They all knew humans were fragile creatures. _

"_Are you sure none of the demons got into the bathroom?" Dune asked Vaughn once more, wishing still that someone else, someone better, was here to make all the decisions, to do the questioning. By human standards, he might have been immortal, but he was still young. But there was no one else._

_Vaughn nodded, obviously tired. "I'm sure. The door was locked, and whole. The explosion didn't move it."_

_Dune rubbed his eyes. "We have to find him. It's too dangerous, letting him have the key when he's not immune to its persuasions." He nodded at the three waiting by the door. "Get on his trail."_

_They left immediately and he turned back to the window, trying to sort it all out in his head. He hoped Winchester was okay, and not lying in a ditch somewhere. He couldn't do anything against the demons after the key if he was lying in a ditch. They hadn't given the key to the man just to watch him hand over the End of the World. _

"_How did they even know it was here?" he demanded of no one. He turned back to the others. "I thought this place was protected?"  
_

_Vaughn nodded, eyes tight with thought. "It is. Demons can't sense us here. Demons aren't meant to sense humans here, either. They can't sense the power of the key here. Or at home, either. I don't know how they knew it was here."_

_The idea of a mole in their midst never occurred to them, for good reason. So single minded were they in their time-long task of protecting that horrifying well of power, that none of them could even consider turning it into evil. It was as physically impossible as cutting themselves in half._

_Dune made a decision quickly. Beckoning with his hand, he nodded. "Bring it in."_

_He heard its snarls long before he could see it. Two of his fellows dragged it in, a small woman, eyes as black as night. Dune looked down on it with a frown._

"_How did you know it was here?" he asked softly, and it grinned with the woman's white teeth._

"_What, you think I'm just going to give you all our answers?" it chuckled, arrogant and cold, as if it wasn't hanging from its arms._

_Dune tilted his head back, before drawing on the power inherent to every one of his kind. Just not many chose to use it, knowing too well that it took years off their longevity. But he refused to think about it. _

"_Yes," he spat, shoving as much power and persuasion into his voice as he could. They all took a step back, away from him, awed, and the demon fearful. "You will tell us. How did you know it was here?"_

"_We didn't," the demon answered breathlessly, unable to not answer, those walnut coloured eyes wide. "But we knew you were after one of the Winchesters. We knew as soon as they started having the dream."_

"_So you had Cannon lure them to his house?" Dune asked, frowning. It nodded. _

"_We did. We were going to take out the Winchesters before you could touch them."_

"_Why?" Vaughn asked, looking between the demon and Dune. "Wouldn't it be easier to go after him once you knew he had the key?"  
_

_It laughed, eyes widening even further with glee. "You don't know." It chuckled again. "You creatures, so distant and aloof in your little place below and away from the rest of the world. You have no clue what you've done, do you, by giving the key to Sam Winchester."_

_Once again Vaughn looked up at Dune, confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"_

_It laughed again, thoroughly enjoying itself. "We didn't know the key was here. Not for sure, anyway. Oh, you have no idea. No idea what he's capable of."_

"_We knew he was psychic," Dune argued, crossing his arms. _

"_Psychic? Well that's for starters, theoretically. You want to know why we came here. It was Sam," and she purred that last sentence. "He sang to us, Dune. Called for us, and we came for him."_

"_What the hell are you talking about?" Dune repeated breathlessly, sure they had made a terrible mistake. "Winchester's one of you?"_

_It laughed again, deep and throaty. "Not likely. The boy was always stubborn. No, he was meant to be. Meant to be ours, our king, our lord. Sam Winchester, the Antichrist, boy-king of hell."_

_They all shared a look, and once more the demon laughed. "Oh, you're all in trouble. Oh, don't worry, he'll never willingly hand it over. To you, to us, to anyone. Not once it sinks its teeth in. And with that power boosting his own… the boy could be unstoppable. Don't worry, your key is safe. Very safe, and _no one_ is ever going to touch it, unless it's over Sam's very literal dead body." It gave a chuckle. "I bet it doesn't even bother you that you sentenced him to a life on the run."_

_Dune refused to let it show on his face. Because it didn't bother him. For now, and he didn't think he would change. All he cared about was the fact that they had just very possibly handed the key to the End of the World to a very possibly unstoppable man. What it did to him was a simple fact, unchangeable and not something Dune particularly cared about._

_And as he plunged a suddenly formless arm into the woman's chest, and pulled the demon out with his bare hand, his expression didn't change, didn't alter, even as the pressure of his invasion killed he woman. It didn't matter. It was inconsequential. They – Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, this nameless, dying woman in front of him – they weren't one of them, and they just didn't understand._

* * *

"You bastard," Sam spat, quivering. "You fucking bastard, I knew you had something to do with it, but… I should have realized!"

And he lunged forward, grabbing Dune by his shirt and driving him backwards until he thudded hard into the wall of the room. Dune never even lifted a finger to fight back, that strange well of emotions, once so completely alien to him, making him hunger and shrivel inside, feeling guilty and traitorous.

"I'm sorry, I'm so -."

Sam cut him off with a punch. "A fat lot of good that does me!" he screamed. "I lost twelve years of my life because of you and your… _race_!"

"Whoa, wait a minute, race?" Dean interrupted, stepping up and looking between Dune and Sam. It wasn't that he didn't want to kill Dune just as much as his little brother. He just didn't want Sam to be the one to do it, not without knowledge that the guy was evil.

But they both seemed to ignore him, and Dune grabbed onto Sam's wrists, not in any defensive way, but like he was pleading.

"We didn't know what it would do," Dune whispered, and Sam wrenched out of the man's grip to punch him once more, drawing blood this time.

"Don't lie to me!" Sam yelled. "You knew exactly what it would do, and you didn't give a rat's ass!"

"I changed!" Dune suddenly screamed, tears flowing now. He shoved Sam back, finally biting, taking up the fight. "All right? I changed, I am changing, I'm not who I was twelve years ago!"

"Doesn't do me much good, does it?" Sam whispered, stepping back a few times, shaking his head, an absent snarl on his face. "In all your change, can you give me back the last twelve years of my life? Can you give me my kid's childhood back, let me watch them grow up? Can you give me back my strength, and my free will?"

"It wasn't meant to be like that," Dune said brokenly. "We were interrupted, the demons attacked, and we had to stop -."

Dean suddenly interrupted him. "Can someone please explain to me, what's going on?"

They both turned to look at him, but it was Dune who nodded. "I think it's about time it all came out. But not here." And he turned and led the way from the frightening circular room.

Dean, afraid that Sam was going to attack the… attack Dune while his back was turned, raced to catch up to his little brother, glancing up at him, worried at the paleness he saw there. Worried at the inaudible mutterings, anxious at the random shakes of his head, so tiny you wouldn't notice unless you were watching.

"I used to come here," Sam suddenly spoke up, looking about the walls. "A few years back, I felt it pulling me. And I came."

Dune stopped and spun, his eyes wide. "It… it must have been the key. It was kept here for centuries."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know what it was. But I could come here and relax, just for a few days, without demons. Until the memories drove me out, anyway."

"You're memories?" Dean asked, voice nearly catching in his throat. Sam shook his head.

"My life was a blank right up until yesterday. Even now, I'm mostly only going by what you tell me, and my gut." He shook his head. "No, it wasn't my memories that drove me out of here."

And that comment bore too much pain for any of them to comment on, and Dune took up the lead once more, taking them to a small room not far down from the one where Dean thought Jess and Cal still slept.

Dune took a chair, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. Dean knew Sam felt too anxious to sit, so he took the other chair, while the younger hunter paced restlessly.

"So… who… what are you?" Dean asked when Sam didn't speak up straight away. Dune shrugged.

"I'm the last member of an ancient race. We've been protecting that key since… the dawn of time, I think. Since it was discovered, anyway. Some people used to say we were created just to protect it, but I don't think so."

"So, you're not human?" Dean just had to clarify.

"No, I'm not," Dune grinned. "Do you know any human that's over three hundred years old?"

Sam faltered slightly in his pacing, but said nothing. Dean whistled. "Wow, you must have stocks in botox or something."

"Actually, I'm still pretty young. Not that there's anyone to compare it to anymore. Like I said, I'm the Last. The last of my kind, and it's my duty to make sure the key continues to stay protected."

"So, you gave it to Sam?"

Surprisingly it was Sam who answered. "He wasn't the Last when I got this," he interrupted, picking up on the capital. "I'm pretty sure he was there, but it wasn't even him screwing with my head. Just a few like him."

Dune flinched at the anger, though he had expected nothing less. This had been so easy a week ago. "I wasn't exactly the one to give the key to Sam."

"Give?" Sam demanded, stopping and glaring down at Dune. "Okay, so my memory isn't the best, but I don't think you _ever_ asked me to take this on for you. Never! Just kidnapped me, changed me, and then dumped me back into all of this shit, so you wouldn't have to deal with it!"

"No!" Dune denied, jumping to his feet. "We never meant for it to happen like this. You were only meant to have it for a while, just so we could recuperate. We needed it away from here, just for a time. It was corrupting us, our race! It was killing us, we were slowly dying out because of it."

"And that was why you gave it to Sam?" Dean asked sharply. Dune nodded, thinking that at least the older brother got it. He was wrong.

Dean stood up as well, shaking his head and rubbing a hand through his hair. "And it never occurred to any of you that one of you might be able to take this thing away, deal with it, and give everyone else a chance to get your race back together?"

Dune's jaw dropped, and he went pale. He shook his head. "No, it didn't," he admitted quietly. "You have to understand, we're not human. I'm not human."

"Damn straight you're not," Dean snapped, turning to face Dune. "And let me guess, you think that it's because you're three hundred years old, cold, elite, arrogant, aloof, distant with ways to tap into power that humans couldn't even comprehend?"

Dune shrugged, unsure where this was going, and Dean, angered further by his non-committed answer, shoved him into the wall. "You're wrong!" he spat. "You're not, not human, just because you are all those things. You're not human because you don't have the opposites. Compassion, self-doubt, self-sacrifice, heart -."

"Hey, humans aren't exactly a bunch of idealistic, friendly, happy-go-luckers," Dune snapped back. "So many of them would never have taken this on."

"No," Dean admitted. "But they'll think about it, they'll consider it, even if they dismiss it seconds later. But you lot… you didn't even consider the idea that one of you could take that fucking key and be done with it."

"No, we didn't," Dune admitted quietly, looking away. "We gave it to Sam, hopeful we had finally found a way to get our race back. But we didn't mean for him to go twelve years without memory of friend or family, without all that human crap you just mentioned. We were going to give him his life back. We picked him because we knew you would help him, Dean. And then the demons attacked, and it all went up shit creek."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, eyebrows low. He refused to let his gaze waver from Dune's.

The… not-man sighed. "Yeah, we screwed with your head. We changed you, so you'd be better able to protect the key. And yeah, we never gave it a second thought. But we're not completely heartless. You weren't meant to be alone to do it. The key should have been your responsibility and you should have been Dean's. We had learned from our mistakes, and we were rectifying them."

"What mistakes?" Dean cut in, glancing at Sam. "You mean you had done this before."

Dune shook his head. "We had tried before. And sometimes we succeeded. But never for very long. The demons always found them, before we gave them the key, or a few days after, at most. We always got the key back, but a single hunter was never able to protect it by himself, and we knew that when we gave it to Sam.

"Only, then the demons attacked. We were only half way through the change, with… with messing with your head, Sam." Dune flinched at the low growl Sam emitted, but kept on. "We had done enough so you could protect the key, and let it help you protect it. We had given you a channel to the power it holds, the key's power, and we knew it would let you use it."

"Okay," Sam nodded. "What didn't you get to do?"

Dune bit his lip. "You have to understand, the key is corruptive by nature. That's why we had to be sure you wouldn't be tempted by the power, in your dream. That's why we had to test you."

"You didn't answer my question," Sam said slowly, dangerously. He seemed to be inching closer to Dune with every word, though he never actually moved.

"We didn't get to cut you off from its corruptive nature," Dune answered with a sigh. "We were going to let you be able to use it, without you getting any of its persuasions, without it being able to use you, like it has been. You were meant to get all of the benefits and none of the shit you've had to deal with. You were meant to be able to protect it of your own free will, not its. And now…"

"Now what?" Sam demanded through gritted teeth, actually shaking. God, he didn't want to hear this, he didn't. He didn't want to hear how these supposedly higher beings had fucked his life up.

But Dune again sighed, still went on. "And now it might be too late."

Dean went tense. "No. No, it isn't. Sam, just take it off. Take it off!" And he actually lunged for the key, in a sudden panic.

"No!" Dune cried, even as Sam took a stunned step back. And then a power hit Dean, and he was flung backwards, hard, into the wall.

The room went silent for a minute, as Dean sat up, putting a hand to the back of his head and feeling blood. Sam stood there, pale and horrified by what he had done. Dune just shook his head.

"I told you. It's too late. If you take that thing off Sam, it will kill him."

* * *

Oh my...

Happy New Years everyone!


	22. Chapter 22: Defiance

**Author's Note:** Dove moment!

So, who remembers a certain little shadow hunter (as mentioned in the summary) who's identity is about to be revealed...

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* * *

**

Chapter 22: Defiance

_Dune watched from the shadows as the woman walked out into the open and cursed. Sure, he had saved humans before, if he came across them in a supernatural tangle – like that couple with that odd dog-fish thing – but this woman was interrupting his hunt. He was after a demon who was after Winchester, and he knew it would be around here somewhere. And this woman was just ambling about in the middle of his hunt._

_Suddenly a man appeared, walking towards the woman. She spun to face him, and Dune frowned, wondering what the hell was going on. _

_He couldn't hear what the two were saying, but he could see their faces in the moonlight. He seemed cocky, triumphant, while she… she was growing more unsure and anxious the longer they spoke._

_Suddenly she lashed out, punching the man. He ducked, but over balanced, a bad hip obvious as he fell to the ground. She turned to run._

_She didn't get far, running into the very same demon Dune was after. He cursed again, and began to get to his feet, realizing he was going to have to rescue her. But he paused again as she reached for something._

_It glinted in the moonlight, and he realized it was a flask. She undid it with the ease of either a professional drinker, or a professional…_

_Judging by the demon's reaction to the holy water, she was a professional hunter. _

_It didn't really help. Behind her the man got to his feet and pulled out his gun. He didn't shoot her there, in the back, but brought it sailing down on her head. She crumpled, dropping the flask and groaning._

_The man looked up at the demon, eyes hard. Even from where he was, Dune could tell what the order was._

"_Kill her."_

_Then the man left, walking away without a care. Dune let him, knowing the idiot would soon realize his mistake when someone killed him for it. Instead, he got to his feet and moved to help the woman._

_She got to her feet as the man disappeared, facing the demon and ignoring her fears. Her hands clutched at her side, as if she usually had a gun there, but it was missing. She took a step back, but the demon moved too fast. It swiped, and she screamed, her cry piercing the air._

_Dune cursed once more, as the woman fell, racing forward before he was _really_ too late. Then two kids appeared, one brandishing a shotgun, and he had to stop as she fired at the demon, missing. The rock salt nearly hit Dune instead._

_He ducked, cursing once more, cursing humans for their lack of insight. He soon got to his feet again, just as the girl cried out._

_He jumped into the clearing, assessing the situation quickly. He reached for his magic, eyes turning golden, moving as fast as he could. He lashed out at the demon as it bore down on the injured girl and the boy moving to help her, and it shrieked, disappearing instantly. Looking over at the humans, he cursed once more. They had screwed up his whole hunt, and what was more, the demons would know he was about now. He had to leave, before more demons came looking for him. Turning, he fled into the shadows before the humans could see him._

_Freaking humans._

* * *

"I told you. It's too late. If you take that thing off Sam, it will kill him."

If anything the tension in the room disappeared, and Sam sagged down to the chair, utterly despondent. Dean got to his feet, slowly, wincing, and looked at his little brother with despair.

"What do you mean, Dune?" he asked in a hopeless whisper.

"I mean… the key has had twelve years to corrupt Sam. He has had it around his neck, he's been using its power… we couldn't use the power, somehow we were unable to, so instead, it corrupted us as a race." And he refused to explain how. "But Sam's been using it to fight, and run, and survive. Now, after so long doing that, the key is basically the only thing keeping him together. If you take it away, he's going to slowly die, because you'll be taking away his source of strength, his energy."

Sam looked up, shaking his head. "I hate you so much," he whispered at Dune. "How could you have even thought about giving it to me? How? You and your fucking race have killed me, murdered me, and you didn't even care as you dropped the death sentence!"

"Hey!" Dune snapped defensively. "We didn't know. And you weren't meant to have it for so long. Just four or five years."

Sam chuckled humourlessly. "After four years, I threw it in a river, Dune, and it almost drowned me."

Again, Dune went pale. "Look, I'm sorry -."

"I don't care!" Sam screamed, standing up so fast the chair flew back. As did Dune, and the creature hit the wall hard enough to crack it, staying up there, pinned. "I don't care, Dune! Your apologies mean nothing! They can't save me from this fucking thing! Can they! They can't give me back my life, my memories! I don't care that this whole thing has made you feel just that little more human. I don't care about your guilt, and your selfish grief! I hope you feel them forever, because it's the least you deserve!"

"Sam," Dean warned quietly, stepping up to place a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You're killing him, let him down."

Sam actually looked at Dune and smiled, uncaring in his rage that the creature was slowly being squashed. But he let it down and shrugged out of the touch before stalking from the room.

Dean watched him go and then turned back to Dune, who was coughing and wheezing. He shook his head. "He's right, it's the least you deserve. Is there no way to help him?'

Dune sagged. "None that I know of," he admitted, rubbing his eyes. Dean continued to stare down at him.

"Did you know that when you came to us?" he asked, a little fire coming back into his voice.

Dune nodded, looking up. "Yeah. I did."

Another piece fell into place for Dean, and shook his head in disgust. "You were going to take it. Weren't you? Even knowing it would kill him."

"I thought I was," he said as he stood up. "I had every opportunity to. That's why I found you, same reason as the demons wanted to. Same reason as the demons killed Lily. They would have gone after Jess and Cal, if I hadn't stopped it from taking them. Everyone knows Sam Winchester would do anything for his family. I thought he would come near you eventually, and then I'd have the chance to take the key."

"But he didn't remember us," Dean pointed out.

"I didn't know that this time yesterday," Dune told him. "I thought he was just trying to protect you by telling everyone you were dead."

"So it wasn't you lot who did it to him?"

"No. Not intentionally at least." Dune shook his head. "I've been trying to think how he lost it. It must have been in the demon attack, the one on this place. Here we're in a different kind of… reality. It's protected by spells and shields, the most important one being that if anyone who's not us, of our race, leaves through the golden wall, they lose memory of what this place is, where it is, how they got here. But Sam's mind was open to manipulation. I'm guessing that when he left, his whole memory was wiped instead of just this place's location."

"But then how did he come back here?" Dean asked. Dune's eyes flickered with something indescribable.

"I don't know. Something must have drawn him back here. But I don't know what."

* * *

Angry, frustrated, and knowing he was doomed, Sam let his feet take him wherever they chose, just knowing he had to walk away from Dune before he killed the creature.

He wasn't surprised when his feet took him to the room with the hole in the floor. It was where they always took him.

He stopped before the ledge, but peered down, down, down, into the never-ending depths below. For some reason it didn't freak him out like he knew it should. Like it had freaked out Dean.

Dean. His brother. He knew the man was, and wished he had time to get to know him. But there was a sense of finality to this day, and he knew, instinctively, that very soon all this would be over. He was going to have to once again leave Dean brotherless.

And his kids parentless. He knew, from Dean's look when he had asked, that his wife, whoever she had been, was dead. He wished, with all his heart, that he could summon some sort of grief over that fact. But he couldn't. He couldn't, and God it hurt.

"Dad?"

Surprised he hadn't felt her, Sam turned slowly, taking in the girl's appearance by the arched doorway. He smiled, unsure.

"My daughter, right?" She didn't much look like him, though. Except for her eyes. If he looked into them, it was like looking into a mirror.

She nodded, nervous. "My name's Jess. Everyone calls me JD though." Her smile faltered for a moment. "Uncle Dean said you couldn't remember us."

He sighed and walked away from the ledge, towards her. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "I wish I could. I wish I could remember anything."

She didn't answer for a moment, then bit her lip. "Maybe some things are worth forgetting," she said quietly.

To that, Sam had no answer, and he looked down, all too aware of the uncomfortable silence. When he looked up again, she had taken a few steps forward, tears in her eyes.

"I can't believe its really you," she admitted hoarsely. "We've been looking for you for twelve years, and now you're here in front of me."

And she lunged forward, shocking Sam so that he very nearly pushed her away with his powers. But she latched on before he could, squeezing tight and sobbing into his chest. He felt his heart break and he grabbed on just as tight out of pure instinct, leaning down and kissing her hair, holding onto her seeming familiar and comforting. And he was going to have to leave them again.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered against his shirt.

"I've missed you too, Jess," he told her, and knew it was true. "My little Jessica. I'm so sorry. I should have listened. I should have listened when you said the light would eat me."

She pulled away as his head snapped up, no idea where the words had come from. She wiped away her tears.

"Do you remember that?" she asked, nervous again.

"I'm not sure," Sam said distractedly. "Sort of. It's kind of fuzzy."

She gave a hollow laugh. "My first premonition," she told him, finally saying it out loud. "A gift from you, or so I'm told."

"Your mum never…" he trailed off as she flinched. "I'm sorry she's gone."

She looked away so he wouldn't see the hurt in her eyes. Was he really sorry? And then he reached forward to grab her again, hugging her once more.

"What was she like?" Sam asked and Jess held back a sob.

"She was great. Obsessed with finding you. Passionate. She always tried to do what was best by us."

"And did I love her enough?" he asked raggedly, desperately wanting to know.

She almost said no, the hurt of her namesake still strong. Had he really loved Lily, or had Jessica always been there, in his thoughts? She didn't know, and it hurt. So she almost destroyed him by saying no. "Yes," she whispered, realizing it was the truth at the same time. "You loved her. You loved her so much, and she loved you, and we were one happy family."

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, knowing he would be hard-pressed to let her go. Jess shook her head.

"It wasn't your fault. You would have come back -."

Sam suddenly leapt back, pulling away, and Jess flinched, hurt. Until she saw the frantic worry on his face, and she too got a taste of that impending doom.

"What is that?" she asked in a whisper, suddenly scared. Sam shook his head, staring at a point past her.

"We've been here too long. The demons are here." And he took off at a run, disappearing from sight.

Jess quickly followed, knowing he was right. She knew, because she could feel it too. And she had left Cal by himself in that room, without a weapon, unaware of where she had gone. He had still been sleeping when she left.

And then she skidded around a corner and almost ran into her father, who had stopped, his whole stance quivering with horror. And when Jess managed to look around Sam's body and see why, she swallowed, suddenly hopeless.

Twenty or so demons filled the corridor. Two held a nearly unconscious Dune, who had obviously put up a fight. Another held Cal, who was frightened but unharmed except for the tight hold around his throat. But it was the gun barely an inch from Dean's forehead that really made Sam stop, though he didn't realize it.

"Don't even think about it, Winchester," a cold voice warned suddenly, stepping forward. Sam snarled. "Maybe you could take us out, or save your son, or save your brother, but can you do all three?"

Sam was debating it, JD realized. He was seriously considering trying. Not that it was really him telling him to take out the demons, though JD was unaware of the influence the key had on her father. But finally, after a tense, uncomfortable moment, he backed down. Five demons rushed forward.

One came for her, and she forced herself not to fight back as it grabbed her by the arms and dragged her away from Sam as the other four assaulted him.

"Dad!" Cal cried as one of the demons punched Sam, sending him sprawling to the floor, where they rained kick after kick into him. Punishment for defying them for so long.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted without moving, managing to still get as much distress into his voice as possible while he had a gun aimed at his head. But he shouted it as the demons were backing off, having their fill of retribution for now. Two walked away while the others hauled a semi-conscious Sam to his feet.

The leader appraised Sam with a raised eyebrow, before turning to Dune. "Now it's your turn to see sense," he told the creature. "Where's the power?"

Dune looked him completely in the eye, and held it. Then he grinned, and scanned the demons, before coming to rest his gaze once more on the leader.

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."

* * *

Methinks we're in for a surprise...


	23. Chapter 23: Infinity

**Author's Note:** You are going to hate me...

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Chapter 23: Infinity

_He knew he had lost track of time, of space, of place, of everything. He had been standing here, on the edge of nothingness for a fittingly infinite time._

_Once more _this_ had been calling to him. _

_It had happened like always. He had the dreams, a few nights in a row. Not like the ones of the forest, but where the golden light consumed him, and he was terrifying. _

_It was an awesome feeling. Of holding power so great and unstable that he destroyed the world with it. It wasn't a dream of the senses. He couldn't see anything, hear anything, touch anything that told him it was a dream, there was no smell, or unique flavouring to the mysterious darkness that suddenly wasn't sleep, if it had ever been sleep._

_Rather, it was a dream completely of feelings and emotions. Of power, and fear, and terror, of greatness, and of annihilation. Of him annihilating the entire world. He quite literally Ended the World, and didn't see one moment of it._

_And too many times of late, he had woken with a smile on his face. _

_After a few of them, he would begin to feel the tug, like a hunger deep inside his soul. He knew it originated from the key, but what it felt, he felt, and he couldn't help but yearn for whatever it was that was pulling him._

_So when he couldn't take the pull anymore, he came here, to stand and bask in the chilling warmth of the End of the World._

_He could feel it now, caressing his mind, smothering his soul. He still felt terrified with horror as he stared blankly at the invisible well of power. He still felt as though he could potentially achieve anything with it. And he had no idea where the 'still' in all that was coming from, he just knew he had felt it before._

_It beat down below, in some place far away, and the key thrummed in time. For the first seven years, it had remained impartial when it came to the power. For the first seven years, he hadn't even had any idea what the damn thing about his neck was a key to, only that it unlocked something. He knew now, he could feel it reaching out, becoming more and more desperate to do what it was created to do. _

_And then he had felt the tug on his soul, through the key, had come here… and then the key had begun yearning back for that power. It wasn't impartial anymore. No, now it wanted _him_ to open the power and obliterate the world. _

_He didn't know it, but at the same time as it had been corrupting him, he had been corrupting it. Not intentionally, not with purpose. But with his fear, and anger, and running, and the hiding. By being human, he had changed it, over the years of feeding on human greed, and terror, and lust. _

_And now, as he stood on the lisp of the End of the World, the key sang at his chest, begging him, actually begging him, to just jump off into that unknown._

_Knowing he had been there too long, he turned away from the seemingly never-ending hole instead, and jumped off the ledge. Then he walked from the strange, alien place dimly lit with blue, before the screams of the dead ripped his ears and mind to shreds. _

* * *

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you."

The muffled claim slowly reached Sam's ears, and just as slowly, he mentally shook himself, trying to regain composure. The demons holding him barely paid any attention, watching while their leader backhanded Dune for his comment.

Sam turned his bleary eyes on what was happening just in time to see Dune spitting blood from his mouth and grinning. Slowly the blurriness faded, and he was back to almost normal. The key gave a small flash of cold against his chest.

"I don't know where it is, demon," Dune told it with amusement. "None of us ever had any clue."

The leader grabbed him by his shirt, bringing him close so that their noses almost touched. "Liar!" it accused in a snarl. "You know where it is."

Dune shook his head. "Nope. Sorry. Well you know, sorry in a figurative way. Really, I'm laughing with joy. You're never going to get it."

The demon considered him for a moment, his eyes glittering dangerously. When it spoke, it did so in a soft voice that reeked of violence and promise. "Well then, Dune, I guess we have no further use for you."

Everything moved incredibly fast. The demon pulled out a knife and brought his arm back, ready to plunge it deep into Dune's gut.

"No!" Sam called, knowing he wasn't finished with the creature yet. Besides, if anyone was going to kill Dune, it was going to be him, sweet vengeance for his own death. Well, that was what he reasoned, later on. Realistically, he moved too instinctively for it to be either. Rather, some deep-seated grain of his past caught up with him and he wasn't about to watch someone be killed by the supernatural.

So he lashed out, shoving at the demon hard with his powers. It crashed into the opposite wall at the same time as something hard crashed down onto the back of his head.

His eyes rolled back and he tumbled to the ground, eyes refusing to focus. Somewhere he was aware of someone pulling him back to his feet, and when he came to, his head throbbing, the leader was inches from his face, holding his chin.

It cocked its head, its host mouth split in a curious, knowing, sly smile. Sam took a quick count, saw Dune, looking a little worse for wear, but not acting like a pig on a spit, Dean's pale face watching with fear, his kids' matching their uncle. He looked back to the demon as its upper lip curled.

"Where do your abilities come from, Winchester?" it demanded softly, scanning his face.

"Bit slow, aren't you?" Dean interrupted, flinching as the gun at his head cocked. "Sam's a psychic, idiot."

The demon didn't look back at his brother. "You were always stubborn about your powers, Sammy," it whispered to him so no one else could hear. "Where did this sudden manifestation come from? You hid them so deep…" It trailed off, scanning his forehead, like it would open up and provide it with the answers it desired.

"I lost my memory, scum," he snapped back at the same soft level. "It changed a hell of a lot about me."

"But you're more powerful than even your yellow-eyed friend could have made you, more than he could ever have wanted you. A lot more powerful than you should be. You've got a connection to it, don't you? Where is it?"

Sam went still, face contorting into a defensive snarl. "How the hell would I know where your damn power source is? I'm just the pack-horse."

The demon chuckled, seeing past his lies. "Tell me where I can kill you," it ordered, eyes intense and deep.

He tore his chin from its grip. "Go to hell!"

The demon took a step back. "Not when I'm bringing hell up here. How about I send your son down there, instead?"

He pulled Cal to him with a fierce, clawed hand that made the boy cry out. Sam lurched forward, but the demons held him back.

"No!" he shouted. "I don't know where it is!"

The demon gripped Cal under his chin and laid the other gently on his chest. Sam felt his heart thump hard as he remembered what the same demon had done to him. Tried to rip his chest open.

"Don't hurt him," he begged, terrified even though he barely remembered the kid. "Please, he has nothing to do with this."

"Then tell me where it is!" the demon shouted, and Cal winced as the hand around his chin tightened.

"How would he know?" Dune demanded, actually standing up by himself now. "If we don't know, he's not going to."

Still, the demon refused to look away from Sam's eyes. "Tell me where it is, or I'll rip your son's heart from his chest."

Jess made a noise, but besides that, the whole corridor went silent, knowing the demon was far from lying. It would do it in an instant.

"Please, don't hurt him," Sam begged in a defeated whisper. "Please."

"Then tell me where it is," the demon hissed slowly, as his hand bubbled with power and Cal tensed beneath its hand, wincing in obvious pain. Sam lunged forward again, struggling harder as Cal's face screwed up with hurt.

"Stop!" he shouted, emotions of his past hurtling through him. "Stop, I'll tell you where it is!"

Cal sagged in the demon's grip, heaving with relief as the demon's face lit up with triumph. It threw the kid to one side and stepped forward.

"Where is it then?"

Sam avoided its gaze, and Dune's confused, horrified one, struggling to accept the idea that Sam actually did know where the power was. Or maybe that he was going to give it up.

"Tell me!" it shouted, making him flinch with its anger.

Slowly, slowly, Sam looked up, and stared past the demon, down the blue-tinged corridor. "Follow the yellow brick road," he told it in a hollow voice.

The demon looked behind it, satisfied beyond belief. "Very good," it told him. "Lead the way, Winchester."

The two demons holding him shoved him forwards, and he took two stumbling steps before righting himself. He half turned back, watching as the demon picked up Cal again, holding on tight. Another two took a hold of Dean, and the demon with the gun dropped his arm, thumbing on the safety.

The leader glared at him. "Get a move on, Winchester."

Sam glared back at it, hating it with every fibre of his being. The key flashed cold in bitter agreement. There wasn't anything either of them could do. Yet. He turned to take the lead.

The procession was silent and uncomfortable. Sam was all too aware of the threat at his back. All too aware of the fact that his entire family, newly found as they were, were everything that made him _Sam_, and that they were inches from death just feet behind him. He shook as he walked, head held high, determined to go down fighting. There had to be something he could do. There had to be some way out of this.

But as he walked beneath the arched doorway into the room with infinity carved into the floor, he was still without a plan.

He stopped half way between the door and the hole, and turned to face the demon. It looked at him, glanced at the hole, and then turned back to Sam, suspicion narrowing its entire face.

"What the hell is this, Winchester?"

Sam glared at it. "It's the source of your power that you so desperately want. It's down there, if you can reach it. If you want to."

"What do you mean?" the leader demanded, not looking at anything but the hole. Sam gave a humourless laugh.

"That power isn't what you think it is. It won't bring you hell on earth. It is, very literally, the End of the World. Five minutes after you let it out, this planet won't be here."

A few demons glanced at each other, but the leader ignored him, staring down into the hole, blank and void for a second. Then it shook itself and nodded at another demon. It walked forward, until it stood at the ledge, and looked down into the never-ending pit. It stared for a long time, and Sam could feel his heart beating violently against his chest, the key keeping perfect time, though it thudded with anticipation, not fear.

Then the demon leaned back, looked at the leader and shook its head. The leader gave a wordless roar.

"What are you playing, Winchester?" it demanded, striding over. Sam backed up, putting his hands, anger flashing through his eyes.

"What, are you dense? Can't you feel it?"

The demon stopped. "I can't feel it, Winchester. Why can't I feel it if you can?"

"I don't know!" he spat, backing away further. He could feel the ledge drawing nearer. "I just can feel it, and its down that hole."

The demon looked back at Dune. "What about you, creature? Is the hole the source?"

Dune seemed to struggle. "I… ah… It could. I don't know. I -."

"He doesn't feel it either," the demon interrupted coldly. "And he's the one who's been protecting it. How could the power be here, when no one has noticed it in the last thousands of years that they have been living here?"

"I don't know!" Sam shouted, stopping a foot away from the ledge. "I don't know, okay. Maybe because I have the key, because I'm connected to it… I don't know, but it's down there. It's fucking down there, and if you don't believe me, then it's not my fault!"

The outburst left him panting, desperate for a way out. This couldn't be happening, a sentiment shared by the key. He had to get out of here, before the power below consumed him. So he slammed the demon with his words, hoping it would pay attention.

Instead it considered him, eyes glinting with something completely inhuman, vile and disgusting and malicious. It studied him, looked deep down inside itself, found the destruction it desired with its very nature. Found the violence, and the inability to trust humans, to let them live. It made its decision, based purely on its want and nature, formulated only partially by logic.

And then it moved too fast for even Sam, supercharged as he was, eyes never changing, muscles bulging and something shimmering in the blue light of here-ever.

Pain lanced through his chest, white-hot agony that almost dulled the sudden snap at the back of his neck, a smaller pain that he knew was so incredibly significant and yet one he couldn't concentrate on. It was hard to concentrate on anything when a foot and a half of blade was stuck through your chest.

His stomach was already warm with blood, and he brought his hand up to stare in blank fascination at the redness dripping over his fingers. He looked up, stared deep into the demon's eyes as it stepped back, satisfied and yet hungry for more. He couldn't summon the horror and fear he knew he should be feeling. Couldn't summon anger, or hurt, or grief, even as he turned his soundless eyes on his family as they watched, pale and terrified and still. The entire world dipped into grey as he looked down, time moving in slow motion as he took a step back. The blade still seemed to shimmer, even in the dull reality he had been forced into. And it hurt, but he couldn't bring himself to realize it.

He looked up once more as the leader of the demons stepped forward again, still in slow motion, reaching up for the hilt of the blade, taking a hold and twisting.

Time sped up, colour returned, and Sam screamed, dropping to sit on the ledge, weeping with the agony coursing through him. His family screamed with him, screams made incoherent with blood rushing through his ears and deafening him to all else. But he could see them, and it was with regret that he looked up at them as the demon placed a too-clean boot on his chest.

It kicked out and pulled at the same time, and the blade slid from his body with ease. Unable to stop himself, Sam fell back, time once more slowing as he watched his family disappear over the ledge of the hole.

And he fell into Infinity.

* * *

I know, I'm evils. Hehe!


	24. Chapter 24: End of the World

**Author's Note: **Did I mention I was sorry for leaving last chapter like that? Well, sorry again... you'll understand in a few minutes...

You won't believe this. This chapter is actually the third last one! I know, crept up on even me. Normally I'm predicting the end when there's about three, or four, or nine chapters to go. But this will be the second last post, with the last one (cough, hopefully) tomorrow night. No promises, my family's getting back from camping (without me!) and it is going to be hectic...

Speaking of hectic, that's the reason this chap is so late tonight, work sucked major granny knickers (no offence to anyones grandmother and/or knickers). Don't ask, you don't want to know.

Also (before I get carried away with this overly long AN) the flashback here is a missing bit from the dream Sam had when the creatures took him, you know the one in the cave... well this bit of the dream is after the cave, but before he sees Dean for the last time for twelve years... Just to clarify...

Well, carry on. Here's the next dish. Full yet? Wow, my dog stinks...

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Chapter 24: The End of the World

_Sam knew he had been tested, and that he had passed, and that this was one test he was going to regret passing. _

_And then the golden light consumed him, and images flashed by his eyes, horribly, terribly great images that felt so incredibly real, that for the moment he forgot who he was, what he was, what he was doing, forgot every inch of his being…_

_He walked a desolate landscape, walked and never hurried, a slightly satisfied smile littering his face, splitting it, dehumanising it. _

_Everywhere was nothingness. Around him, in a vast circle, the barren ground lay wasted, shrivelling up even as he walked stately around, even the dirt folding in on itself and leaving absolutely nothing in its wake._

_Further, he could see taller, higher beings as the power of the golden light fell upon them. Trees shrunk so fast it was like they disappeared, and animals ran, not knowing what was happening, just that the World was Ending. And that the man with the split face was the Ender._

_People ran as well, screaming even as the golden light nipped at their heels, invisible to all but the Ender, but nowhere near unnoticeable. They could feel it fondling them, caressing them even as their minds, and bodies, and last of all souls, began to become unmade. Like a silent storm, the golden light traced its way across the landscape, destroying everything in its path with finesse and grace. It seeped its way inside, breathed across skin and made love to its victim, killing them and blessing them, and causing them to scream as their very being disintegrated. _

_It was a slaughter of refinement, and of passion, and disinterest, of pride and arrogance, because this world would pay its due for unleashing him._

_Infinity followed behind him, and he walked on, that satisfied smile, the calm face, relaxed eyes all so terribly wrong amid the barren, vile land that spread before him. And yet it was greatly suited to the black nothingness of complete emptiness that trailed him._

_The End of the World was nigh and nothing could stop him any longer…_

_Sam woke from the images, though not from unconsciousness, and he was screaming, the golden light still consuming him, tearing at him. He wouldn't let that happen, he would not completely annihilate the world. He would not be the Ender._

_And to do that, he had to go away. The fact that he hadn't been asked angered him beyond reason, but he knew he had to go. This was his duty, and it was going to hurt, he knew. But that barren, dying world, a scene so incredibly surreal it was like something out of a movie, it was still fresh in his mind, and there was no way he would End the World._

_So when he opened his eyes, still screaming, to find Dean staring at him, terrified, he did the only the thing he could do. He apologised._

"_I'm so sorry, Dean." _

* * *

The demon kicked out and pulled at the same time, and the blade slid from his body with ease. Unable to stop himself, Sam fell back, time once more slowing as he watched his family disappear over the ledge of the hole.

And he fell into Infinity.

Dean screamed and lunged forward, ripping his arms from the grip of the demons holding him, terror filling him like it never had before. Sam disappeared over the edge and Dean raced forward, forgetting his own fear of that deep hole as he tried desperately to catch a sleeve, a foot, anything. But Sam was already disappearing into blackness, a twisting, tumbling shape in the tunnel.

Dean watched him, hand outstretched, panting, unable to believe what had just happened. No, he couldn't watch Sam disappear from his life again. But, short of jumping into the hole after his brother, what could he do?

"Sam!" he screamed, his vocal cords nearly tearing.

And then the hole raced up to meet him.

Golden light erupted from below and Dean flew back, landing hard on the stone floor, cracking his head. But he didn't feel it, too focused instead on the light as it smashed into every inch of the room, tearing at him, filling him, keeping him together as its brightness threatened to rip him apart. He had to keep his eyes closed to avoid going blind, but still the light shone through his lids, making him squint and struggle. He could hear someone close by whimpering and was too distracted to realize it was him.

And then the world slammed back into place, though none of them had ever realized they were moving. Dean felt all the air jolt from his lungs and he sucked more back in, heaving. He rolled over onto cold stone.

It was then he realized he could see, that the golden brilliance had dimmed until it was a dull light illuminating the background. His eyes met cold, black stone and he flinched at recognising it, inhaling sharply, sitting up and twisting, wishing he didn't find this place so fucking familiar.

They had all been transported here, every single one of them. From the twenty odd demons, to Dune, to Jess and Cal, they had all been taken by the golden light, and brought here. Here, to where this whole fucking nightmare had begun.

The circular, smooth black stone cave was bigger than he remembered, fitting them all comfortably, and for a moment Dean was overcome with the feeling of being squeezed into nothing. That was, until he laid sight on the centre of the cave.

There, where the golden light had appeared in Dean's dream, lay Sam. A broken, beaten Sam, who was sprawled over the glossy surface, eyes closed, head tilted so far to one side, Dean swore his neck was broken. But even though his chest didn't move, Sam's blood still pumped, seeping from the knife wound, and from his back. It looked like a few limbs were broken, an arm and both his legs. It looked as though he had fallen from a great height to land in the centre of this cave.

Dean got slowly to his feet, wondering what the hell was happening. He wasn't the only one to move, as the demonic leader and Dune followed to a stand. But they didn't move closer, too afraid of the unknown.

Then the golden illuminance flashed, and Dean put a hand up to shield his eyes, though the flash was so quick, the reaction was seconds too late. As it died, leaving spots dancing across his eyes, Dean caught sight of the chain of the key, the two now broken strands flowing from Sam's chest wound and spiralling across his bloody torso. And Dean gasped to realize that the knife had caught the key and shoved both key and blade tip into Sam. That the key was now embedded in his brother, bathing in his blood.

And they all knew that the End of the World had been unlocked.

As if that realization was a switch, Sam jolted, never once opening his eyes, but beginning to writhe as if something was trying to force its way out.

Another explosion of golden light forced the three standing to step back, arms up. And when the light died once more, Dean gave another gasp. As he watched, as they all watched, Sam stilled, going so motionless that Dean was afraid he was dead, though how he was alive at all was a mystery. And as Sam stilled, the same golden light began to ebb from his chest wound, seeping forth like blood.

Dean took another involuntary step back, jaw dropping as the light, like liquid, oozed out of his brother, running like cracks across his clothes and skin. Sam never moved once as liquid light seared his clothes and body, travelling down his arms, his legs, up his neck and across his face, into his eyes and ears, a nasty parasite invading an unconsciously willing host. The light caressed his body, digging in with a vicious glee, unstoppable, making an effect of lava through skin-coloured cracks. Slowly, slowly, it began to trace a net over Sam.

The demon leader cackled with triumph, jumping forward and beckoning two of its buddies. Dean watched them with horrified confusion, his mind out of balance after the past five minutes. Were the damn demons still thinking only of that power?

Obviously they were, ignoring Dune's pale face and child-like terror. The only one who really understood what was happening, the creature stepped back, sprawled against the stone wall, shaking his head. But the demons ignored him, and the two lackeys moved without fear, grabbing Sam's golden-veined arm and hauling the unconscious hunter to his feet. The remains of his shirt, edges singed like they had been burned, fell from him like rags, but Sam sagged between the two demons like he was dead.

The leader moved slower, though it wasn't from fear. No, this was pure enjoyment, savouring the moment that it could finally taste hell on earth. It moved forward, arm outstretched, fingers quivering with expectation. Too late, Dean moved to intercept it, not about to let it do anything to his little brother.

Sam moved faster. If there was anything of Sam in there.

His hand shot up, muscles bulging against the hold the demon had on his right upper arm. It left his forearm free though, and with it, he grabbed the demon's outstretched limb.

Suddenly the two holding Sam let him go, dropping to their knees and screaming, clutching at their hearts, their heads, their throats, anywhere they could lay a hand on. Their screams heightened, and Dean began shaking from the unadulterated fear and animal savagery he heard in those cries of pain.

Then, the two demons began to… come undone. That was the only way he could describe it. Dean watched with a wide mouth as the two held their hands out, as the two shook and jerked, watching their fingers as skin began to drift from their muscles, as the skin ripped from their hands, leaving the muscle clean and red underneath. Not for long, as that too began to disappear, not flying away, not tumbling in a wind storm surrounding them all. It just disappeared, and their screams began to shake the stone as the two human shells were stripped away.

The bones fell to the ground before melting, unable to hold together without cartilage and sinew, leaving the two demons naked against the invisible storm. Invisible the power might have been, but Dean watched as they too were stripped, an unearthly cry splitting his head as the demonic black cloud waned to nothing in seconds. And as the last black speck vanished from sight, leaving the cave eerily silent, Sam's eyes snapped open.

Sam's black eyes cracked with gold.

Dean took another step back as Sam, no not-Sam, turned his – its – attention on the demonic leader. It yelped in fear, trying to move back, to leap back, away from this monster it had created, it had forced to be created. But it was held in place, and as not-Sam's face split into a calm, beatific, at peace smile, he reached out and gently placed a tender hand at the demon's cheek.

It shrieked, an echoing cry that made the cave shake once more. Dean flinched, and backed away once more, until he could go no further. Somehow Jess ended up beside him, Cal beside her, and, terrified and unsure, they grabbed onto one another, Dean hoping, never thinking, that maybe, just maybe, he could protect them from the End not-Sam was about to unleash on them all.

The demon shrieked again, beyond terror, and Dean felt himself crying, feeling a child in the grips of a nightmare. He wasn't the only one; the demon was crying as well, sobbing, pleading, begging for its life as it fell to its knees. Sam just looked down on it, and began crying himself, golden tracks creeping down his face, weeping as if some part of the real Sam was influencing this thing of Endings.

Faster than the two demons before it, the leader faded away, body disappearing, nothingness spreading from the palm on his cheek. It kept on screaming, so obviously in pain, so much more pain than Dean had ever witnessed for a demon, pain beyond anything any demon had ever suffered. Until suddenly silence was all that was left and the demon leader had gone. Just… gone.

Dropping his arm, not-Sam turned his black-gold eyes to the huddled three against the wall. Heart nearly stopping, Dean looked up and met those alien orbs of fury and death. And he felt that power coming for him.

He moved in front of Cal and Jess, shielding them as if that would work, desperate for something to happen, for something, someone to save them. The world couldn't end with a smile on Sam's face.

"Sammy!" he suddenly entreated, taking a step forward, shrugging out of Cal's grip as the kid tried to grab him. He moved forward, moved to just a foot from Sam, so he could have reached out and touched his little brother. He didn't. He had seen what not-Sam had done to those demons, just by touching them. He couldn't bring himself to try it.

The not-Sam cocked his head, and the remaining seventeen demons burst in a shower of blood and flesh that vanished before it even touched the ceiling high above.

"Sam?" Dean whispered, trying not to shake. "Sam, you have to be in there." If he wasn't, the entire world was doomed. The younger hunter frowned, and Dean hoped it was a good sign. It had to be good sign.

And then the gold light flashed once more, and Dean felt it sear him. He cried out, falling to his knees, agony disappearing with the light. It left both Winchester brothers on their knees.

Dean looked up at Sam, seeing the golden veins against a darkening skin. Seeing Sam's chest, whole and uninjured. Except the strands of the chain, dangling from the skin, the actual key well and truly buried within his chest. It had healed him, as completely as it could, divesting him of injury and coercion, desiring a healthy host as it destroyed the world.

"Sammy…" He trailed off. What could he say? What in the hell could he say to make this all end? He looked up into Sam's eyes.

Not-Sam stared back, uncompromising, unflinching as sat back and reached out to place a hand on Dean's chest, so light and gentle that the once loving act was made abhorrent by the Death radiating from the very same hand.

Dean looked down at it, tears streaming down his face, and then looked up to stare into Sam's cracked eyes. He shook his head, never once breaking the hold.

"Please, Sammy, you have to have some kind of control. This… come on, little brother, please!"

But as he watched the veins in not-Sam's eyes burn ever brighter, as not-Sam's hand tightened and tensed against his chest, as he felt that invisible, deadly, horrible power encompass him and press down on him, he finally had to admit that Sam was gone.

* * *

Sorry, I just can't help myself… Seriously, I think this whole, cliffhanger thing is an addiction or something...


	25. Chapter 25: Redemption

**Author's Note:** This chapter is for carocali, for sending me my lucky REVIEW NUMBER 100! That's right people, 100 reviews! You are so awesome. Thank you, and this chapter is for you all as well.

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Chapter 25: Redemption

_They didn't go through the door, pausing before entering the room, and Dune looked up at his father._

"_So, it's in there?" he asked the taller figure beside him, and his father nodded._

"_The key is kept in there, yes, Dune."_

"_And it's our job to guard it?"_

_Dune's father shook his head. "Not our job, son. Our duty. Our life. We guard this key with every breath, and if we can't, then we make sure someone else gives their life to guard it. If it ever comes to that, that person should feel privileged."_

"_What is it?" Dune asked, too young to know._

"_It's a key, in a sense. A very powerful object. It gives us our longevity, our powers. But it's also our demise. Our death, as a race, is tied in with the death of that key. Some say we were made from the key, but somehow I think the key was made from us. We are protected from its persuasions, so it cannot alter how we think, or act, but many believe that the moment that the last of us die, that key will die as well. Or that the moment the key dies, we will."_

_Even as young as he was, Dune understood that the key had a life, of sorts, of its own. It also never occurred to either father or son that the race could cull itself and stop the possibility of the Ending._

"_What is it a key to?" Dune asked, looking through the door._

"_The End of the World. Literally."_

"_Why is there an End of the World?" Dune demanded, without accusation. He knew there was one, or assumed it, had no reason to disbelieve his father. It was similar to a human asking, Why is there a God? Curiosity. _

"_Because there was a Beginning," Dune's father answered simply. "Everything in life is about balance, Dune. Good and Evil, right and wrong, up and down, karma, yin and yang. So when the universe was Begun, it created its End as well, and stored it away. Only one can be used at a time, and since Beginning came first, Ending waits."_

_Dune nodded. "What is the Ending?"_

"_No one's sure, really. Everyone just knows we guard it, and that releasing it would mean the death of everything."_

"_Is there anyway to stop the End if someone does release it?" the younger creature asked._

"_Better to hope no one ever manages to do it, Dune," the father told his son. "Sure, if you kill the person possessed by the End, the End should stop. But possessed by that energy, you are, according to legend, practically invulnerable. You heal instantly. Understand, Dune, that once possessed, the person cannot control themselves. They can only watch as the World Ends about them."_

_Dune nodded. "Person, though. One of our kind could never be possessed by the End?"  
_

_His father shook his head. "If it was released, the End could try. But our magic can hold it back, if you try. Battle it, I suppose. It can't harm another who is possessed by the End, but it can stop us from being the Ender."_

_Dune nodded, unaware that in the future it would be the only thing that did stop him from being the Ender._

* * *

"Uncle Dean!"

Dune flinched as Jess yelled it, as Dean's back arched with the stress of becoming undone, as Sam, oh God as the Sam that he and his kind had created brought that terrible power down to bear on his own flesh and blood.

Time seemed to slow down, or maybe Sam was just taking his time now that the danger had passed, now that he had destroyed the demons. Either way, Dean's own undoing seemed to be far more drawn out.

Dune couldn't move from the wall. From his position, he could see everything. Could see that Dean was refusing to fight back against his brother. Could see, hear, Jess and Cal screaming out for their uncle, closer to him than their own father, unable to watch him die, yet unable to make themselves move from the fear, the terror that Dune himself felt searing his bones, turning his legs to jelly.

Everyone talked about the end of the world, about how one day, someday, the world was going to… most of the time they meant change. One day, the world was going to change so much that they could only call it the end.

Now though, the End, the real End of the World was here, and the idea of everything Ending, of Nothing greeting them all and their minds just… stopping, of there being absolutely nothing… it was far more terrifying then the thought of hell on Earth, of incredible change.

"Uncle Dean!" Jess screamed again, and as if responding, Dean himself screamed, the pain of his undoing too much. Nothing was showing on the surface, but Dune, his senses far more than human, knew the Corruption infesting Sam was being vicious and tearing Dean apart from the inside out. And he knew, could sense Sam fighting, struggling, dying as he murdered his brother, but he had absolutely no hope of beating it. It was the End of the World.

Dune tore his eyes from the two in the middle of the black stone cave and looked over to the kids where they huddled against the wall, holding each other, holding each other back, afraid to let loose of the other in case the world decided to rip apart at that one instant and they died alone.

But they weren't looking at each other. They too, stared at the centre, fear uppermost in their eyes, watching their family literally tear itself apart. And Dune found himself staring down, down, into their souls, or hearts, or whatever it was that so broke and shone through their eyes.

It was fear, and sadness, and regret, and longing, and horror, and love, and nearly every other emotion any human being had ever felt. Dune felt a surge of envy, that they could feel anything other than terror, when he had no one who he could hold as he was unmade. No one to wish he could save, no one to miss, no one to cry for, or love. He had nothing that those two siblings had, and he wished he could.

But he was the last one, the Last of his kind, and he had failed in his duty. He had failed to protect the key, to stop the End, and to save mankind.

And, somehow worse, he had failed to save the Winchesters.

The cave began to shake as Sam's power grew, and with it, Dean began screaming non-stop, his back arching until it should have snapped, Sam's hand never moving from his brother's chest. Dune covered his ears with his hands, knees suddenly like jelly and unable to hold the rest of him up. The shaking became worse as the whole world rebelled uselessly at its Unmaking. And still Jess and Cal held each other, two children lost in a storm of death and emotion.

Still watching them, it was a moment before Dune realized he had gotten to his feet and was marching to the centre of the room.

It was an act that made him more human than most men and women he had met in his entire, long lifetime. Determination surged through his veins, replacing terror, and he knew he had to do this. With human thoughts and emotions ravaging his mind, Dune didn't give his plan a second thought. He was the Last, and in all honesty, that meant he had nothing to lose. The Winchesters had everything to gain.

These thoughts whirling through his head, Dune paused beside the two brothers on their knees, reached out for that magic within himself, and opened now pure golden eyes.

His hand tightened on Dean's shoulder, and the man flinched, breaking his screaming to look up with feverish eyes and a tear-stained face. Dune refused to see it, gripping hard. With a wordless roar, he lifted Dean and threw him across the cave, no easy task. He had to all but tear Dean away from Sam's hand, as if they were one. But he managed, somehow, and he followed Dean's flight, watching him fall near his niece and nephew. The kids helped him get up as Dune turned back to Sam.

He jumped to find those volcanic eyes at the same level as his own, especially when he hadn't heard Sam stand. The cave shaking harder yet, Sam turned those angry orbs to the one who had disrupted him.

Dune refused to flinch as the same hand that had been killing Dean reached up to grab his cheek, and he saw some part of Sam, a part without morals or conscience, shine through with a manic look, retribution promised for what Dune's people had done to him. Dune almost let the Corruption kill him. Almost.

Instead, he turned to face Sam completely, taking Dean's spot and ignoring everything but that power inside Sam. Then, lifting his arm, he reached for it with a brutal, guilty force.

Even Sam's cracked eyes went wide as he hunched over, dropping his hand from Dune's cheek, gagging, gasping, looking down. Down, down to where Dune's arm disappeared into his chest.

Dune grimaced, wishing he could think of some other way. Instead he shoved further, searching, ignoring the growing cracks in Sam's eyes, the brightening Corruption. Just focusing on reaching, reaching for that power deep inside Sam, reaching out to take a hold. He was almost there, and both he and Corruption knew it. It lashed out.

He felt the power sear his hand and screamed, even as his fingers closed over it, the power solid as he grabbed it. It seared him, and he screamed, and Sam screamed, his back arching, arms flailing, eyes flashing deep gold, covering the black as the power fought back while it was still inside its human host. It fought, and blood began dripping from Sam's nose, from his ears and eyes, signs of the struggle within. Like the golden Corruption before it, the blood ran in sinuous lines down his face and neck, onto his chest.

Dune ignored it, his whole arm shaking with the struggle of keep a hold on the golden power within Sam, with the struggle to keep going. He felt it burning his hand, felt the edges of it digging deep, until his own blood ran, and still he kept a hold, just intent on maintaining that grip for the moment, just so he could hold on when he…

With a roar that was half a scream, he yanked his arm back, and like an explosion erupted between them, both Sam and Dune flew backwards to hit opposite walls of the cave.

* * *

Dean finally got to his feet as Sam slumped unconscious to the ground, eyes closed. He stumbled forwards a few steps, staggering, light-headed, anxious… he waited, just waited, praying.

Sam took a huge breath, though never waking, and Dean took one with him. He was alive, oh God he was alive, somehow. He didn't know how his brother had survived whatever it was Dune had done, and to be frank, he didn't really care. He wiped away the tears that had soaked his cheeks, unashamed at having been so terrified, and almost couldn't believe that the world wasn't Ending.

A ragged choke behind him suggested it wasn't over.

Dean spun as the small cry seemed to echo about the cave, and he gasped with horror as he took Dune in. He stepped forward enough to grab Jess by her arm, and drag both her and her brother away, before moving back to stand in front of the still unconscious Sam.

"Dune, what did you do?" he demanded in a hoarse whisper.

In his hand, Dune held the Corruption that had been in Sam, the one Dune had ripped from the hunter's chest. It glowed like the sun in his fist, a bright ball of golden light, so beautiful, in the flesh if you will, that Dean found himself almost ready to accept oblivion if he could just taste the sweetness of that Ending that Dune held. He refused to take a step forward though, eyes growing wider, pupils dilating at the sight, feeling the hands of his niece and nephew clutched unabashedly around his arms. He wasn't about to abandon them again.

Tearing his eyes away from the orb, and the chain of the key swinging from it, Dean looked up into Dune's golden eyes. And heaved with relief once more as he found only Dune, and not Corruption.

"Dune?" he asked again, his question all the more complex for its simplicity. He was asking what the creature had done, why, how, and knew those questions could never be answered completely. Dune shook his head, fear and relief clashing.

"I don't think I had a choice," he told Dean, gazing once at the two kids. "I couldn't just let Sam destroy everything, not after everything my kind put him through…"

Dune flickered, actually flickered, and Dean flinched, jolting back half a step, pushing Jess and Cal. The creature looked down at himself, as if trying to soak in every last detail, before looking back up at Dean.

"I'm sorry," he told them as the glow began to grow, travelling up his arm in an expanding ball of light. "I'm sorry I tried to use you. I thought I was going to save mankind by manipulating you. Instead, you, all of you… you saved mankind by manipulating me."

The glow covered his entire arm now, and Dune flickered once more, like a ghost already, struggling to remain a part of this world. Dean watched in morbid fascination, shaking his head. "Dune, what the hell is going on?" he asked, his voice sounding empty as the glow brightened.

"It's trying to take me, and I won't let it. I won't let it any further than my skin," the creature explained, his voice hollow as well. As if from a distance. The golden light covered his chest and began moving down, picking up speed. He flickered again.

"I would never have even considered this if it weren't for you. I would have watched the world die…" And his voice carried away into a guilty whisper. Dune flickered once more, and when he flickered back, the glow covered every single inch of him, a man shaped creature made of sun. Dean squinted, his arms still being held, but somehow, the intensely bright golden light, still singing for his soul, didn't hurt. Didn't sear, didn't burn, just shone ever brighter and sung ever lower.

And then Dean finally realized, just as Dune raised a hand in farewell, the echoes of tears dripping in all their hearts, noiseless, pure emotion. Just as Dune sung out a silent good bye, a silent thank you, Dean realized.

Dune was dying.

"No!" he shouted, surprising even himself by leaping forward, tearing his arms free. But he was too late.

With a painless scream, Dune's head flung back, and he imploded, shrinking down, and pulling himself in, until he was a speck of light in the centre of the cave. It happened so fast Dean was still feeling the traces of fingers on his upper arms when the tiny, minute, crying speck of golden light screamed once more, and rolled out.

Again it happened fast, and the disc-like explosion knocked the three standing Winchester's off their feet, carrying them back against the black wall of the spherical cave to land in a heap at the bottom.

And Dune was gone forever.

They would have grieved, despite all Dune had done to them and Sam, if they had had the time. As soon as the black spots disappeared from their eyes, the cave began to rumble once more, and this time, flakes of black stone fell. Dean got to his feet and looked up, jaw dropping as he watched cracks appear in the top of the sphere, high above.

"We need to get out of here," he muttered as Cal came to stand by him. Dean looked down at his nephew. "We need to leave, now."

He raced to where Sam lay slumped against the wall, pulling Cal with him. There, he pushed Jess away from where she was checking her father's vital signs, and carelessly slung his baby brother over his shoulders.

A sudden bang made them all fall, the shaking, unsteady footing not helping their already drained bodies. But they had moved just in time, as a large piece of black stone came crashing down to where they had been standing not twenty seconds ago.

Dean stared at the huge piece for a moment, just thanking anyone who was listening. Then he turned to Jess and Cal, who were apparently doing the same thing.

"Go," he told them, his voice croaking as he stood up. They barely heard him, shock finally settling in. Growling, he gave them a shove with his hips, his hands otherwise occupied with keeping Sam from falling.

"Go!" he shouted, and it finally managed to get through. Jumping, the kids started forward, dodging smaller shrapnel as it fell, as the whole cave began to collapse. Sensing the exit nearby, Jess lead the way, running through, hands above her head, Cal barely a step behind her.

Dean struggled under the unconscious weight of his brother, even if the younger man was malnourished. Dean was tired, and he was sore and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. But if he did that, both he and Sam would be crushed. As it was, with him staggering towards the exit, survival was looking slim.

"Come on, Uncle Dean!" Jess suddenly screamed, and Dean looked up to find both of them at the exit, the arched doorway that seemed to be filling with light. He groaned, pushing on, pushing as hard as his legs would let him, determined, hopeful, tired, sore, goddammit, why was it always left... up… to them!

With a roar he lunged forward, slamming into that wall of golden as the blackness of unconsciousness rushed up to meet him, and behind them, the cave, where the whole nightmare of the past twelve years had begun, collapsed into Oblivion.

Better it than the whole world.

* * *

Phew, they survived, thank God for that!


	26. Chapter 26: The Last Time I Held You

**Author's Note:** Well, this is it people. Lucky last chapter. It's been an awesome ride, thanks for reading. This is just a teensy chapter to bring it all together nicely. Can't end a story on the brothers unconscious now can we.

So, once again, thanks. And see you in my next story!

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Chapter 26: The Last Time I Held You

"_Come here, you little munchkin."_

_Jess giggled as her dad lifted her up with one arm, holding her close. She wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, careful not to squash her baby brother while she did. Caleb rested in Sam's other arm, asleep and unaware of the commotion. Jessica giggled again as Sam gave her a tickle, the nightmare of the other night banished from her mind._

_Not from Sam's._

_His stomach was like a dead weight, tense, but he refused to let it show. Still, he could feel it, his own doom somewhere over the metaphorical horizon. Something was going to happen on this trip. Hopefully now that he was warned, he could get out of it, but he was definitely going. This guy was an old friend of their fathers, or so he claimed. _

_And to be honest, he wanted to find out if Jessica was right. If she was psychic._

_So he held his kids tight, hoping it wasn't going to be the last time he held them. He held on tight, and smothered their foreheads in kisses, and just prayed that in a few days, he would be back to do it all again. He hated leaving them, and the thought of doing it permanently was too much to bear. _

_Sam hugged his kids even tighter._

_Off to the side, Dean stood beside Lily as they both leaned against the Impala, his baby still going strong after all these years. His arms were crossed, and he watched Sam with some worry. Yeah, usually the guy went all Dr Phil when they left, hugging and kissing as if he were never going to see them again. But this time there was a desperation to it, as if that whole danger of not returning thing had suddenly become all the more real. And he really didn't want to know why._

"_He's freaked about something," Lily suddenly muttered, not looking at Dean, just frowning at the scene her husband was making. "And he won't tell me. Has he said anything to you?"_

_Dean shook his head. "Nothing. I'm sure he's fine," he added, trying to comfort her._

_Lily bit her bottom lip. "It started the other night. Jess had a nightmare, and when he came back to bed, he was quiet, and he wouldn't say what Jess had the nightmare about. He usually does, but he pretended to be asleep when I asked."_

"_I'm sure its nothing, Lily. You know, he's a dad now, he's bound to be getting… nervous about going out and hunting."_

_She turned to him, unsure, and anxious. "Or it's a premonition, Dean. What if he's had a premonition that he's going to die? Our kids can't be fatherless so young."_

_He faced her, grabbing her arms. "Hey, Lily, relax. I will look after him. I always do. I won't let him die. Besides, he wouldn't go if he thought he was going to die." Or so Dean hoped. Sam could be a stubborn bastard sometimes. _

_She glanced around at Sam as her husband dropped Jessica. "Promise me, Dean."_

_He nodded. "I promise, Lily. I will never let anything bad happen to Sam."_

_He dropped his grip as Sam ambled up, giving the two of them a curious look before smirking. "If Dean wasn't so goddamn old, I'd be worried."_

_He took the good-natured punch and grinned. "Ready to go, Dean?" he asked, handing Caleb to Lily. The older man nodded and Sam swooped on his wife._

_The usual quick peck on the lips turned into something more passionate almost faster than Dean was prepared for, and he took a step back, eyebrows raised as Sam kissed his wife hard for several long seconds._

_Then, in silence, the two brothers got in the car and started on their journey, both now sporting their very own anxious guts._

* * *

Sam woke with a smile on his face, relief too much to bear as he realized he wasn't gone. He was alive, and that had to mean the world was still spinning.

Slowly he opened his eyes, and with sight came everything else. Every muscle ached, and his eyes seemed to burn, as if he had been focusing them for a long time. His head throbbed, and his chest pulsed where the demon had stabbed him. He felt old, and exhausted, and he welcomed every minute of it. Because the weight, both mental and physical, of the key had gone. He was free.

He took a deep breath, and rolled over onto his back. Two sets of round eyes met his, and his face split in a grin.

"Jessica and Caleb," he breathed, and as if that was all the permission they had been waiting for, they both tackled him, uncaring of sore spots, just holding on tight. He didn't care. He hugged them back just as hard, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, kids, I've missed you so much," he whispered raggedly, emotion overcoming him.

"We missed you too, Dad," Cal mumbled against his chest, before pulling back, wiping his face. Jess soon followed, and Sam sat up, wincing and putting a hand to his chest. He looked down and found a fist sized bruise there, dark and purple.

He looked back up at his kids. "Dune's dead, isn't he?" he asked. Jess nodded sadly.

"Yeah, but he died saving us all."

"He's a hero," Cal added, and Sam nodded in agreement. It seemed like the right thing to do, though to be honest he felt like it was what Dune had owed him.

"I guess he is." He looked across at the other bed, seeing Dean sprawled over it, asleep. "Is Dean okay?"

"Just tired," Jess answered. "It's been a couple of long days. He has woken a few times though, so that must be a good sign. Bitching and moaning, but he's okay."

Sam chuckled softly. "That's just like him. What about you two? Are you okay?"

Jess grinned, her eyes sad. "Better now we've got you back. I just wish Mum were here to have you back with us."

Sam pulled them in again, holding them gently. "Me too, Jess, me too." He breathed them in deeply, closing his eyes. "God, it's been so long since I could hold either of you."

"Do you remember?" Jess asked, and Sam nodded against her head.

"Parts I do. Some things I remember it, and I wish I had paid attention to you. I'm so sorry you had to go twelve years without a father."

"It wasn't your fault. Those creatures would have taken you anyway. They still would have given you that damn key."

"I'm going to make up for it," Sam told them, pushing them away slightly. "I'm not leaving either of you for anything. Ever again."

"Aw, that's sweet, Sammy."

Sam grinned and turned to face Dean where he was slowly sitting up in bed, wincing. "Goes for you too, jerk."

The older man seemed to jump with the familiarity of the insult, before standing and grinning.

"Whatever, bitch. God, the motel's going to need more tissues before you lot are done."

Sam wiped his face as he stood, looking down at Dean. "Come on, big brother. Surely you can have one chick flick moment. You've got twelve years to make up for."

And he grabbed Dean, pulling him for his own hug. Dean didn't hold back either, grabbing on just as tight and nearly refusing to let go when Sam began to pull back. But they parted, and sat down on their respective beds, smiling contentedly. Sam looked around again.

"So where are we?"

"Motel in Deakin Hill, Colorado. Dump of a town."

Sam frowned. "Why here?"

Dean went still, face paling in anger. "It's where Lily died, Sam. A man named Kris Lane betrayed her to the demons who were after the key." He shook his head. "Apparently when the cave spat us out, it spat us out right near the Impala."

Cal nodded. "It did. Me and Jess were thankful for that too, cause we never would have been able to carry both of you. We dragged you into the car and drove to the motel."

"How long ago was that?" Sam asked, thankful his voice worked even with the lumps in his throat.

"Two days ago," Jess answered softly. "We weren't sure you were going to wake after that long. But here you are."

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked, studying his little brother without once moving his eyes.

Sam thought about that for moment, trying to think of how he really felt. "I'm tired, and sore. That was the first time I've had a decent sleep in five years. But the key's gone, I don't even feel it anymore… and I've got all you lot back, so that counts for something." He grinned slowly. "I feel good, Dean. For the first time in twelve years, I feel good."

Dean nodded. "Good. That's good, Sammy." He sighed. "It's so good to have you back."

There were no tears or hugs, or broken voices this time. A comfortable silence followed, before Sam rubbed his eyes. Dean broke the silence though.

"Anyone else starving?" he asked. "I don't know about you three, but it's been a few days since I ate."

Sam nodded, not mentioning it had been far longer for him. He got to his feet again. "Only if you've got some clothes for me besides these pants though. I've been kind of low on stocks recently."

Dean agreed, becoming serious. "We'll take care of all that. We'll rest, get back our strength, get back to something kind of like normal…" He looked over at Jess and Cal, and they nodded. "And then Kris Lane has some things to answer for."

Sam raised his chin, a dangerous light in his eyes. But he smiled. "An adventure for another day, brother. For now, let's eat."

Five minutes later they were out the door and on their way to a diner down the road, two brothers, and two kids, slowly getting back to their very special, whacked out version of normal.

* * *

Awwwww!

So, what did you think? Sappy ending? I think they needed it though. Don't be afraid to let me know!

Until next time…


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